


Thoughts That Would Thick My Blood

by QueenOfTheDreamers (QueenOfDreamers)



Series: The Storm Series [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellamort, Bellatrix/Voldemort - Freeform, F/M, Morganna - Freeform, Series, Teenage Pregnancy, Voldemort Wins, Voldemort is in charge, female oc - Freeform, first wizarding war, foster parenting, storm series, voldemort/bellatrix - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-17 18:58:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16101785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfDreamers/pseuds/QueenOfTheDreamers
Summary: Part III of The Storm Series (Sequel to And Promise You Calm Seas and Or We Run Ourselves Aground). Morganna is five years old and incredibly powerful with magic. But Voldemort, who is in charge of wizarding Britain, has more on his plate than taking care of the prophesied silver-haired creature. There are political insurgencies afoot, and a nightmare diplomatic situation brewing.





	1. The Marriage of Two Minds

"Morganna!" Bellatrix marched through the ground floor of Marsham House. "Where are you? We've got to get you properly dressed!"

"I'm upstairs playing!" called Morganna, who was five now and had developed something of a sharp attitude as of late. Bellatrix huffed and ascended the stairs in her own bridesmaid gown - a deep purple colour not of her own choosing - and went into Morganna's pale-green-and-peach rooms. She found Morganna sitting on the floor with three porcelain dolls set up for tea.

But there was something strange. The dolls' teacups were Levitating to their mouths, and the dolls were sitting in unnatural positions. Bellatrix frowned and said quietly,

"Don't stop doing that. Don't stop playing. Just… hold on a moment."

She left Morganna's rooms and went quickly into the Master suite, where she found Voldemort getting dressed into his tuxedo robes. He'd aged considerably in the past five years; running an entire nation would do that to a wizard. They'd decided to stay living at Marsham House so that Morganna could have as ordinary a life as possible despite being the ward of the Dark Lord and Lady. But things were feeling cramped around here, and Voldemort had talked of moving into a grander manor soon. Bellatrix had to confess to herself that she wouldn't mind. Now she stepped up beside Voldemort and said,

"Your silver-haired creature is Levitating teacups for her dolls."

"Is she?" Voldemort looked at once proud and curious, and he finished tying his bow tie before walking out of the Master. He crossed along the upstairs corridor and stood in the doorway of Morganna's rooms, watching her play tea with her dolls. He watched her move her hands, watched her perform expert wandless magic at five, and he smirked.

"She's brilliant," he sighed. "Terrifying, but brilliant. Get her dressed, will you? We'll be late."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes a bit and went back into Morganna's rooms.

"You're to be a bridesmaid, too, but you'll be all in white, like Mummy," said Bellatrix. She opened Morganna's wardrobe and pulled out a fluffy confection of a cream lace dress, and Morganna turned her lip up at it.

"It looks like candy floss. Like a Puffskein," she complained. Bellatrix snorted a laugh.

"You'll look lovely. Now. Out of that drab black."

"You always wear black, Aunt Bella," Morganna reminded her, pulling off the black velvet dress she had on. Bellatrix huffed a breath and yanked on the white dress over Morganna's silver hair. She used her wand to curl the hair, and then she said,

"All right. Big smile for practise. Ready?"

Morganna put on a winning grin, and Bellatrix nodded.

"Perfect."

* * *

"What is that child doing?" asked Druella at the reception, and Bellatrix glanced over to see that Morganna was standing in front of the window, Vanishing and Conjuring glass panels.

"Oh. Oh, dear. One moment." Bellatrix rushed over to Morganna and set down her own glass of wine on a nearby table. She put her hand on Morganna's shoulder and said sternly, "You mustn't do that sort of magic here in front of everybody."

"Why not?" complained Morganna. "It's nothing. I can fix the glass once I make it disappear. It's fun. I'm bored."

"Well, if you're bored, go dance with the Dark Lord," Bellatrix suggested, deciding to pass off her responsibilities for a few moments. Morganna let out an annoyed sound and then went over to where Voldemort was talking with Avery. She yanked on his robes and insisted,

"Aunt Bella says you're to dance with me."

"Oh, I am, am I?" Voldemort winked at Avery, and he took Morganna out onto the dance floor, letting her stand on his shoes as they swayed awkwardly.

"Bella."

"Cissy." Bellatrix turned round to see that the bride and groom had finally approached her in the ballroom of Malfoy Manor. They'd been so busy that they'd scarcely talked all day. Narcissa and Lucius looked up to where Morganna was dancing with Voldemort, both of them laughing, probably about the Vanishing windows.

"You're doing such a grand job with her," said Narcissa seriously. "We are more grateful than we could ever say."

"So very grateful," Lucius nodded. He sipped his firewhisky, as though gathering courage, and then he stared at Narcissa. Bellatrix frowned, her stomach twisting strangely.

"Congratulations on the wedding," she said, for lack of anything else to say.

"Bellatrix, we'd like to raise our daughter, now that we're married," said Narcissa. "We're nineteen. She's mature enough to need less intensive care. We'd like… we are  _so_  very grateful."

"You want to take her back?" Bellatrix's throat went dry. She turned her face to see Morganna dancing with Voldemort, the two of them giggling like lunatics about something. "No. You don't understand. She's so profoundly gifted."

"We think we can handle her," Lucius said, and Bellatrix shook her head firmly.

"The Dark Lord will never agree."

"Why not?" Narcissa asked rather petulantly, looking resplendent in her cream silk gown.

"Because there was a… there was a…" Bellatrix stumbled over what to tell them. "It was foretold that Morganna would be a servant of the Dark Lord, raised by him and me."

Narcissa and Lucius gave one another grave looks, and Lucius sipped his firewhisky again.

"But that could still come to pass," he insisted softly. "If she lived with us, and we were His servants, too, then -"

"You'll have to speak to the Dark Lord about this," said Bellatrix. She felt her eyes well heavily at the notion of letting Morganna go. It had never been parenting, she knew, but it had felt awfully close for the last five years.

She had fed Morganna her milk as a baby. She had sung to her, rocked her to sleep. She had healed her through fevers. She had taught her to speak, taught her to walk. She had dressed her, bathed her, changed her nappies and taught her to read. Was not this child as much Bellatrix's as Narcissa's?

"You'll have to speak to the Dark Lord about this," she said again, and she stormed off, off toward the window where Morganna had been Vanishing and Conjuring glass without a wand.

* * *

"No! I don't want to live with Mummy and Daddy! No!"

"Settle down, Morganna," warned Voldemort, but Morganna wandlessly hurled her blocks toward the wall. The wood on them splintered from the force of her magic. She aimed her hands at her bed, and she managed to dislodge it from where it stood. It squeaked and moaned against the wooden floor, and Voldemort said loudly again,

"Settle down, Morganna!"

"I will  _not_  go live with them!" Morganna screamed, and she wandlessly threw all her dolls at the wall, shattering all of them. That was enough for Voldemort, who whipped out the Elder Wand and aimed it at Morganna.

" _Petrificus Totalus._  Settle down, Morganna. Now."

She stiffened up and toppled over, able to see and hear but not able to move. Bellatrix sighed and came into the bedroom, mending the blocks and dolls with quick  _Reparo_  spells and moving the bed back to where it had come from.

"If she doesn't want to live with them," she began, but Voldemort insisted,

"Your visions showed her calling us  _My Lord_  and  _Aunt Bella_. She already does that. Narcissa and Lucius are married now. They are her parents. There is no reason why they can not raise their own child."

"The prophecy," Bellatrix murmured. "The stone, the wand, the cloak…"

"Can all be given to her whilst she's living with Narcissa and Lucius," Voldemort insisted. "I have a wizarding country to run, Bellatrix. Playing father has been very difficult."

"She can  _hear_  you! Master!" Bellatrix cried, and both of them stared at where Morganna lay in her white fluffy dress on the floor. Voldemort sighed and hovered over her.

"I will strike a bargain with you, Morganna," he said stiffly, as though she were not a child at all. "You live with your mother and father until Christmas. If you despise it there, you can come back here. You do not  _try_  to make things difficult for them. You  _try_  to make things easy for them. If you like it there, you stay there. If you hate it there, you can come back here at Christmas. Understood?"

She couldn't answer, so he released her from her stiffening, and she sat up slowly, looking much calmer now.

"My Lord," Morganna said slowly, "What if I hate  _them_?"

"You won't, Morganna," Bellatrix promised. "You know them. It's Mummy and Daddy."

"But I don't like them so very well," Morganna protested. "They get afraid when I do magic. They don't laugh like The Dark Lord laughs."

Voldemort scratched at his hair and eyed Bellatrix. He cleared his throat and said carefully,

"Whenever we visit, you can do as much magic for me as you'd like. All right?"

"All right. Fine." Morganna began to cry, and Bellatrix had to turn her face away. She finally said gently to Morganna,

"Let's get you into a nightgown, little creature; it's so very late."

**Author's Note: Part III of the Storm Series! Who's ready? This story will feature Morganna! Prophecies! Political insurgencies! A trip to Mexico! And More! Let's get this party started!**


	2. Sceptres Are In Children's Hands

"The house is going to feel so empty without her," Bellatrix said, staring at the ceiling. From beside her, Voldemort puffed out an irritated breath and lamented,

"You've been mourning her for days, and she hasn't even died."

"She's leaving us." Bellatrix's voice was cold and distant, a winter wind in the master bedroom. "I sang to her when she cried. I fed her her milk. I gave her boiled peas and let her throw them on the ground, and I cleaned them up when Tippy was busy. I held her hand out near the rose bushes when she first learnt to walk."

"Bella." Voldemort turned his head toward her. "She was never ours."

"She was always yours." Bellatrix kept her eyes trained on the ceiling, as though something very interesting was up there. "She was always your silver-haired creature. Remember, Master? Remember the prophecy?"

"I remember," he insisted, but she recited in a breathy whisper,

" _A silver-haired creature with sapphire eyes shall you gather reluctantly under your wing. And though you shall guide her, ever shall she guide you. Tiny fingers clutched round elder, silver hair hidden beneath cloak of false velvet, gifted obsidian hung round her neck, and she lives thus as long as your selfish heart cries._ "

"I remember," Voldemort said again. He remembered Liesl Drucken delivering him the prophecy as a young man. He could remember standing in Liesl's elegant office, could remember Liesl sitting calmly on the divan and delivering the prophecy as though it were mere conversation.

_A silver-haired creature with sapphire eyes shall you gather reluctantly under your wing._

Voldemort remembered when Narcissa had been fourteen and pregnant, when Avery had been married briefly to Nadine and had agreed to take the child. He remembered his extreme hesitation in agreeing to take on the care of Morganna, until Bellatrix had shown him visions of the child in battle. And then she had been born, silver-haired and sapphire-eyed. And something had snapped into place, gears suddenly working in sync inside of Voldemort.

When Morganna had been an infant, he'd cradled her sometimes in the Conservatory. Especially after long days of meetings, it had been a welcome respite to hold the baby in his arms and listen to her coo. When she'd grown a little bigger, he'd sat in there and watched her on a mat on the floor, lying on her stomach and holding her head up, mouthing big wooden blocks and lying on her back watching enchanted swirling rainbows overhead. Sometimes, Voldemort had given her bottles of milk, and those times had felt warm and cosy in a way nothing before had in his life.

But Morganna had grown, as all children do. Soon she didn't need bottles. Soon she could sit at the dinner table, atop a leather booster seat, and spoon vegetables and cut-up meat into her own mouth. Soon she could drink from a wooden cup all by herself. Soon she couldn't just walk; she could run. And she did run. She ran through the rose bushes. She ran round the grass. She ran up the stairs and down the stairs until Bellatrix insisted that there were  _inside feet_  and  _inside voices_.

Then there was her magic. When she was a baby, Morganna would Engorge and Shrink her toys without any assistance. When she was two, she would change the colour of the roses to purple, then to blue, then back to red, and she'd laugh and laugh about it. When she was four, she'd Summon something from across the room with wandless magic. And now that she was five, she was Vanishing and Conjuring glass and Levitating dolls' teacups.

"She was never ours," Voldemort reminded himself and Bellatrix, but suddenly his chest ached. Bellatrix threw her legs over the side of the bed and rose, and he asked her, "Where are you going?"

"To see her." Bellatrix pulled on a thin black dressing-gown, and Voldemort scowled.

"The poor child's sleeping. Don't wake her."

"I won't wake her, My Lord." Bellatrix disappeared from the master bedroom, and Voldemort knew what she was doing. She needed to just go watch their silver-haired, sapphire-eyed creature sleep a little while. Soon enough, she would be gone from them.

* * *

"What would you like to get for Aunt Bella for her birthday this year?" Voldemort asked Morganna the next morning, as he stepped into her green-and-peach rooms. Morganna frowned and began counting on her fingers.

"August. September. Her birthday is in September. That is four months from now."

"One month," Voldemort corrected, taking a seat on the edge of Morganna's bed, "but you'll be living with Mummy and Daddy by then, so I thought I'd ask you now to be sure I got the right answer from you."

"How old will Aunt Bella be turning?" asked Morganna from where she sat cross-legged on her rug, and Voldemort curled up half his mouth.

"Twenty-four."

"Is that so very old?" asked Morganna gravely, and Voldemort choked a little laugh.

"No; it isn't old at all. Your Mummy and Aunt Bella are both very young."

"As young as me?" Morganna asked, and Voldemort tipped his head.

"Older than you, but younger than me."

"How old are you?" asked Morganna, and Voldemort smirked as he scratched at the grey scruff he'd allowed to grow in.

"I'm forty-eight."

Morganna's eyes went round as saucers, and she whispered in wonder, "Are you as old as Nicolas Flamel?"

Voldemort guffawed again, and he realised he was truly going to miss having Morganna about. He sighed and asked again,

"What shall we get for Aunt Bella for her birthday, then?"

"Oh! I know!" exclaimed Morganna, and she went dashing over to her bookshelf. She pulled out her worn copy of  _The Tales of Beedle the Bard,_ and she brought it over to Voldemort. She thrust it into his hands, and Voldemort stared at her in confusion. Morganna shrugged.

"She always reads to me from it. Almost every night. I don't want Mummy and Daddy to read to me from Aunt Bella's book. I can get a new copy when I'm living with them. This copy belongs to Aunt Bella. So it should stay here with her."

"Oh." Voldemort's eyes felt abruptly and unpleasantly damp, and he murmured, "I think she will appreciate this very much, Morganna. How very… that's very generous of you, to give her this book."

"It's the most important book in all the world," Morganna announced, proudly tipping up her head. Voldemort knitted his brows.

"Why's that?"

"Because," explained Morganna, "someday I'll have everything the Three Brothers had. Someday I'll have the Elder Wand, and the Invisibility Cloak, and the Resurrection Stone. Someday I'll have them."

Voldemort's blood ran cold then, and he found it quite difficult to swallow all of a sudden. He whispered rather frantically,

"Who told you that? Aunt Bella?"

"No. I dreamed it," said Morganna, crossing her arms over her chest. "I dreamed that I wore your ring round my neck, and I had a special cloak to make me invisible, just like in the story. And you gave me your wand and used a different one, one that looked like a bone. And I was very powerful! Nothing could kill me."

Voldemort blinked a few times, and suddenly Liesl Drucken's words echoed inside of his skull as though they were being screamed by a thousand voices at once.

_Tiny fingers clutched round elder, silver hair hidden beneath cloak of false velvet, gifted obsidian hung round her neck, and she lives thus as long as your selfish heart cries._

Voldemort pulled out his wand, his hand shaking a little, and he wriggled his ugly black Gaunt family ring until it came off his finger. He felt a lightness there, the absence of the heavy stone, and he swallowed hard. This was a Horcrux. He knew what the weight of wearing one constantly meant. Could he burden Morganna with this? Could he trust her with it? Did he have a choice?

He Conjured an Unbreakable Chain of silvery metal that wound through the ring, a chain whose length would expand as Morganna grew. He was careful in his Conjuring, careful to make the chain elegant and lovely, yet strong and impenetrable to spells. Once he'd finished, he cleared his throat and beckoned for Morganna to come near. She looked a little afraid - no, not afraid. Just hesitant. She was so rarely afraid. She stepped up to him and bowed her head, and Voldemort put the chain over her head.

"Do not ever, ever, ever take this off," he commanded her. "Not ever. Do not give it to anyone. Do not sell it. Do not let anyone hold it. Do not ever take this off, this gift I have given you. This obsidian, this gifted obsidian. Do you understand me, Morganna?"

"Yes, My Lord," she whispered, and she picked up the ring and held it between her tiny fingers. She raised her icy blue eyes to him and smirked a little, and she said in a soft, dangerous voice, "Thank you."

* * *

"Have you got all of your dolls in there?" Bellatrix fretted, staring at Morganna's Expanded trunk. Morganna nodded and threw her arms round Bellatrix's waist.

"I don't want to go, Aunt Bella," she said, her voice muffled by Bellatrix's tiny waist. Bellatrix managed to hold back tears somehow, though Voldemort had no idea how she was doing it. Then he realised she must have taken some Draught of Peace to calm herself. He could scarcely blame her. This was more difficult than he'd anticipated it being.

"It is very important that the ring stay round her neck," Voldemort informed Lucius Malfoy, who nodded but looked confused.

"As you command, Master," Lucius said. "Again… we could never properly thank you for -"

"I think there's been enough of that," Voldemort snapped. "Just take her. Let's not drag this out any more than is necessary for anyone involved. Go. Please."

"Yes, Your Lordship." Lucius bowed low, and Narcissa reached to pull Morganna away from Bellatrix.

"We'll see Aunt Bella all the time!" she promised. "Just like you saw Mummy all the time. All right? So say goodbye now, Morganna, and come home."

"This is home!" Morganna exclaimed, stamping her foot, and Voldemort warned her,

"You need to go with your parents, Morganna."

"I want… to stay…  _HERE!_ " Suddenly Morganna thrust both hands out to the side, and there was a massive explosion. Everyone screamed and ducked as the stair bannister collapsed, as the chandelier in the hall fell to the floor with a mighty crash. Wallpaper fluttered to the ground in scraps like butterflies, and broken furniture lay all over the place in the parlour.

"Morganna!" bellowed Lucius, and he slapped his five-year-old daughter straight across the cheek.

"Lucius!" Bellatrix chided, coming in between Morganna and her brother-in-law. "Don't strike her; she couldn't control herself!"

"Everyone settle down  _now!_ " yelled Voldemort, and then there was quiet. Morganna clutched at her cheek where Lucius had hit her, and all four adults surveyed the massive damage Morganna had done with her uncontrolled Blasting Curse. Voldemort let out a shaking breath and eyed Lucius and Narcissa.

"Are you certain this is what you want?" he demanded. "You can't just slap her every time she uses magic. I forbid it."

He remembered his own uncontrolled magic as a supremely powerful child, and he shivered a little. Lucius Malfoy tipped his head down contritely and said sorrowfully,

"I apologise, Master. I lost my temper beyond excuse. We will treat Morganna with the best care, of course. And we'll help her learn to control her magic."

Voldemort didn't feel so certain about that. He was uneasy as Morganna apologised over and over for the Blasting Curse, as she embraced Bellatrix again, as she tossed her arms around Voldemort, as she was dragged away by Narcissa and Lucius.

And then, once they'd gone, he and Bellatrix silently fixed the damage Morganna had wrought. It didn't take much. Wallpaper was easily mended with magic. The fallen chandelier was readily fixed. But then it was quiet, and Bellatrix was right.

The house felt empty without her there.

**Author's Note: Poor Morganna. But she's got the Resurrection Stone! And she's super powerful! Will she wind up with all three Hallows? Everybody ready to delve into some politics? Thanks so very much for reading. Since this is Part III of a series, I realize that readership will be lower than on most of my stories, and therefore every review means even more than usual. Thanks so very much.**


	3. I Tell My Sorrows To The Stones

"Well, Yaxley," said Lord Voldemort where he sat in his office in Malfoy Manor, "How go things at my Ministry?"

Bellatrix sighed where she sat in a chair beside Voldemort's desk. Corban Yaxley had been the Minister of Magic for years now. The entirety of the Ministry was Voldemort's. Law after law had been passed bending to his will. They'd begun with the Half-Blood Marriage Incentive Act. Then they'd banned incoming Muggle-born students from attending Hogwarts. Next, they'd banned all Muggle-borns from working at the Ministry of Magic. Wands had been confiscated from Muggle-borns, who were on a registry now.

There had been resistance, of course. Some of Dumbledore's remaining allies had fought them in a series of battles, a war that had lasted two solid years until, one by one, the resistance had been eliminated. They didn't have wands, anyway. Ollivander had been killed, and his shop was run by Opalina Rowle, who had a good working knowledge of wandlore, now. How could the resistance fight well without wands? Still, there were bands of rebels hiding out in forests, in villages. Bellatrix knew this was true. But for the most part, it was shocking how quickly people could adjust to new realities. Even Half-Bloods and Purebloods who had originally been sympathetic toward Muggle-borns now used the word  _Mudblood_  in daily conversation. They followed the Ministry loyally. Things were peaceful. For the most part.

People knew who was in charge, too. Yaxley was the Minister, but Lord Voldemort was, well, the Lord. The Master. People knew that. People knew he was in the shadows, in the darkness, ruling everything with an iron fist and a magical ability none of them could fathom. Tom Riddle was long gone. Bellatrix was the Dark Lady. She could go into public now, but when she did, she was treated like a deity, bowed and curtsied to, called  _My Lady_  by even Florean Fortescue.

"Things at the Ministry are going well, Your Lordship," said Corban Yaxley in response to Voldemort's question. He wrapped his thick fingers around the arms of his mahogany chair and said cautiously, "We have evidence - from the Auror force - that the lingering rebels take pride in speaking your name. They seem to think that speaking your name directly makes them brave."

Voldemort laughed a little at that. He shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"Ordinarily, I'd be happy to let them do whatever they need to do to pretend to be brave," he said. "But in this case, it's a useful tracking tool. Put a Taboo on word  _Voldemort._ "

Yaxley's face went white, and he nodded nervously. The process of placing a Taboo was unnerving, for it required the person placing the spell to speak the word himself. Yaxley would have to say  _Voldemort_ , and he didn't want to do that. Bellatrix sucked her bottom lip, rather amused.

"Be certain to make this a Ministerial decree," Voldemort clarified. "A law, actually. The last thing we want is some stray Selwyn breaking the Taboo. I want the Aurors and Snatchers on this. Anyone who breaks the Taboo will be apprehended and summarily executed. That's the law."

"Understood, My Lord," Yaxley nodded. He smiled a bit then and said, "Things are going swimmingly in the Department of Marriages, Births, Divorces, and Deaths. The Half-Blood Marriage scheme has produced dozens of offspring. More than enough to make up for the numerical loss to the community we've seen by eliminating Mudbloods. We're classifying the children of two Half-Bloods as Class B Purebloods."

"Class B Purebloods?" Voldemort touched his fingers together, looking curious. "We have classes of Purebloods now?"

"We've decided, with your permission, Sir, to maintain a classification system of Blood Status," said Yaxley. "Those born to two Pureblood parents are Class A Purebloods. Those born to one Pureblood and one Half-Blood or two Half-Bloods are Class B Purebloods. Those born to any lesser combination are considered Half-Bloods, and of course there is the Mudblood classification. The separation among Purebloods is just to appease the Sacred Twenty-Eight. We can't exactly have the children of two Half-Bloods be considered the same as the child of a Mulciber and an Avery."

"No. I understand." Voldemort scratched a bit at the beard that was almost grown in now. Bellatrix studied it. He was keeping it neatly cropped, and since it was mostly silver, it shined a little. She wasn't sure whether she liked it or not. It made him look old. She wasn't sure whether she minded that or not.

"Finally, Master… there has been talk among Departmental Heads of a scheme to utilise the same techniques Hogwarts once used to identify Mudblood students. We would use the techniques to root out Mudblood children."

The office was so quiet then that one would have heard a mote of dust fall onto the desk. Voldemort sighed and said calmly,

"A scheme to eliminate Mudblood children before they grow into Mudblood adults."

"Yes, Master," Yaxley said, his voice lethally steady. Voldemort shook his head a little and folded his hands on the desk.

"Something like that could never be done in an official Ministerial capacity."

"Why not?" snapped Bellatrix, and Voldemort stared at her like she'd suddenly caught fire. He gulped, gathering himself, and then he spoke to Yaxley.

"As it is, wizarding Britain is increasingly isolated in trade and diplomacy. America, India, France, so many others… they've already expressed their sincere discontent with our approach. Excluding Mudbloods from society is enough to create problems for us internationally. If we start killing their children wholesale -"

"But they're a scourge," Bellatrix cut in, and Voldemort pinched his lips. He snarled at her,

"Have you ever heard the word  _genocide?_ Because MACUSA have, and so have the French Ministry, and the Japanese one. Anything like that would have to be strictly, entirely, one hundred per cent unofficial, unsanctioned, and condemned by the British Ministry."

Yaxley was quiet for a moment, and then he nodded. "I can make that happen. But it'll take some time. That is, perhaps, a project for a later epoch of your rule, Your Lordship."

"Thank you, Yaxley. If there's nothing else, you're dismissed," said Voldemort, and Yaxley slowly rose from his chair. He bowed first to Voldemort, then to Bellatrix, and he put his grey wool wizard's hat back on his head.

"I shall see you at the Dark Lady's birthday party on Friday, then?" he asked, and Voldemort nodded crisply. Yaxley walked briskly out of Voldemort's office, and the instant the door was shut, Voldemort snapped his head to Bellatrix and demanded,

"What the blazes is the matter with you?"

"Whatever do you mean? Master?" She licked her lip, and he narrowed his eyes.

"You were insolent," he informed her, "and unreasonable. What's the matter?"

She scoffed quietly and whispered, "It's been a month today."

A month since they'd taken Morganna away from them. A month since they'd said goodbye to her in the blown-apart foyer. They'd only seen her once since then; Narcissa had been in Knockturn Alley shopping with Morganna the only time Bellatrix had come to Malfoy Manor since the separation. Bellatrix shut her eyes, feeling them burn, and she whispered,

"I apologise, Master."

"When is the last time you came?" he barked, and she opened her eyes and stared at him like he'd gone insane. She shook her head, confused, and asked,

"I beg your pardon?"

"An orgasm. When is the last time you had one?" His voice and face were quite serious. Bellatrix's mouth fell open, and she shrugged.

"I… I dunno. It's been a… a long while."

"Then I should think you're overdue, My Lady." He stood slowly and made a move to walk toward her, but Bellatrix tensed up. She shook her head and insisted,

"I'm not in the mood. My Lord."

"Not in the mood." He sounded frustrated. "Bella, you've not been  _in the mood_  for over a month. Do you suppose you shall ever be  _in the mood_  again?"

"I hope someday I shall be," she said. She gulped, and then suddenly there was a knocking on the office door.

"Enter," said Voldemort, and a strange little smile crossed his face.

"Forgive me," said Narcissa's voice as she came walking into the office holding Morganna's hand. "We saw Mr Yaxley leave and she just couldn't wait any longer."

"Morganna!" Bellatrix flew from her chair and dashed over to the child. They'd dressed her in pretty black silk and velvet. Narcissa had always had impeccable style. Bellatrix threw her arms around Morganna, who embraced her back and whispered,

"Missed you, Aunt Bella."

"Missed you, too, Morganna." Bellatrix pulled away and studied Morganna's face. She looked healthy. Her cheeks were pink and plump. She raised her face to Narcissa and asked, "Is she eating well? Playing loads?"

"She's doing splendidly," Narcissa insisted, "though she asks after the two of you all the time."

"And I've got a surprise for you, Aunt Bella! My Lord!" Morganna grinned, and she fiddled with Voldemort's ring round her neck.

"A surprise?" Bellatrix swiped the tears away where she knelt. "What sort of surprise?"

"Morganna is learning to control her incredible magic a bit better," Narcissa said proudly, "and she's got a gift she wants to make for you."

"Ready?" asked Morganna, and Bellatrix nodded earnestly. Morganna swirled her hands around in a circular motion, shutting her ice blue eyes. Her silver hair fell in waves around her round little face as she whispered something Bellatrix couldn't understand. Then, abruptly, something began to form in the air between Morganna's hands. It was smoke at first, vibrant pink smoke, and then it began to solidify and turn into what looked like quartz. Soon enough it was a heavy, solid sphere of shiny pink quartz, and it was floating in the air between Morganna's hands. She pulled it out of the air and held it out to Bellatrix, who gasped and took the heavy ball.

Bellatrix glanced over her shoulder to Voldemort, who had approached and looked amazed where he stood.

"You are so very powerful, my little creature," he informed Morganna. "This is magic beyond most seventh-year Hogwarts' students' abilities with a wand, Narcissa, much less wandless. You do realise how gifted she is."

"We try not to discuss the matter in front of her," Narcissa said meaningfully, "but we are… very aware. She will be a good servant for you. A powerful servant."

"Yes, she will." Voldemort crouched down and took the solid quartz ball from Bellatrix's hands. He reached out and touched at the ring he'd given to Morganna - his Horcrux. The gifted obsidian. "You keep this on?"

"Always, My Lord," Morganna affirmed. Suddenly Bellatrix sensed a metallic chill about the child, and she curled her lips up. Yes, she thought. Morganna would be a mighty soldier.

"You promise me to listen well to your Mummy and Daddy," Bellatrix said, almost scolding. "You promise me you'll eat well and listen well all the time. Indoor feet and indoor voices. Promise?"

"I promise, Aunt Bella," Morganna said. "You can keep that present."

"We shall treasure it." Bellatrix stared at the quartz sphere in Voldemort's hand as he rose.

"Go play, creature," he told her. "Little girls should be playing all the time."

"Yes, My Lord." She nodded, and she gave Bellatrix another embrace before Narcissa started to lead her away.

"Cissy?" Bellatrix called after her younger sister. Narcissa, beautiful and slim and just on the cusp of womanhood herself, turned round at the office door. Bellatrix nodded. "Thank you."

**Author's Note: Politics and Morganna and personal issues; oh, my! Maybe a birthday party will put Bellatrix** _ **in the mood**_   **again, hm? I know I update quickly, but I'm actually pleasantly surprised at how many people are reading Part III of this series, so if you get a quick moment, PLEASE do leave a review and let me know what you think! Thanks so much.**


	4. Decked With Diamonds

"I'm going to get drunk tonight," said Bellatrix, and Voldemort scoffed a bit as he tied up his bow tie.

"Not embarrassingly drunk, I hope. Don't make a fool of us."

"No.  _Fun_  drunk," she said. "I think I need it."

She came walking out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her torso, aiming her wand at her hair as it braided itself into a complicated design. She held the braiding spell and declared,

"I've been sorrowful."

"No. You?" Voldemort turned to face her and raised his eyebrows. He flicked up half his mouth and began adjusting his cufflinks. "You've been in mourning for over a month, Bellatrix. It's time to wake up now. It's your birthday celebration. And I have my gift for you."

"Have you?" Bellatrix smiled at him, and he informed her,

"Dark Lords are able to get the finest jewellers in wizarding Europe to make the finest jewellery, you know." He moved to the dresser and opened a drawer, and he pulled out a wrapped box. He handed it to Bellatrix, who looked surprised. She pulled off the paper and Vanished it with her wand, and then she unfurled the box and gasped.

"Master." She stared at the choker he'd had made for her, an intricate lace design of diamonds that would fit tightly around her neck and then continue down in a scallop pattern over her shoulders and collarbone. It was an insane amount of diamonds, and would have cost well over a million Muggle pounds. Even in wizarding currency, it had been anything but cheap. Voldemort studied her reaction, the way her eyes shone, and he suggested,

"Shall I put it on you?"  
"I'm overwhelmed by this," she mused, but she let him pull the ornate diamond choker from the box. He stood behind her then and clasped it by hand, dragging his fingers around the diamonds, studying her carefully arranged hair, and he murmured,

"I want to pull this towel off of you right now. You are so beautiful. Your hair and… these diamonds…"

"Then pull the towel off of me," Bellatrix suggested. Voldemort's hand went around the front of her and flicked at the place where she'd tucked the towel into itself, and it pooled at her feet. Voldemort stood behind her in his tuxedo robes, fully clothed and wondering if it was worth completely undressing. But then he had an idea, a mad idea, and he bent down and whispered in her ear, like he'd done a few days before,

"When is the last time you came?"

She tipped her head back, the dozens of diamonds around her neck glittering wildly in the candlelight from the wall sconces. She met his eyes, her full lips parted, and she whispered,

"It's been a while. My Lord."

"Hmm." He stepped around her, stalking in a circle like a predator walking round prey, and soon he was standing before her. He lost his breath then, for she was beyond attractive standing there with her hair all done up, with the diamonds he'd given her glittering all over her neck and chest. Her breasts looked more pert than usual, somehow. Her stomach was even flatter than it was accustomed to being. Voldemort sank onto his knees, and Bellatrix reached out to hold the corner of the dresser, asking nervously,

"Wh-What are you doing, My Lord?"

"It's been a while, has it?" He raised his eyes to her, and she nodded, her rising and falling chest accelerating, giving her away. A coral flush spread over her cheeks, spider webbing down past the diamond choker onto the soft flesh of her breasts.

Oh, yes, Voldemort thought. She was in the mood now.

He urged her to part her legs for him, and he leaned forward a bit. She backed up against the wall, and he followed her on his knees, leaning forward again. With one hand, he reached round her and grasped at her buttock, squeezing the cheek of her tight arse as his tongue lathed over the length of her freshly washed womanhood.

"Master!" Bellatrix gasped, planting her hands on the wall.

"Don't muss your hair," he scolded her, his voice vibrating against her clit. She moaned at that, and he suckled there as he stroked her thigh. He laughed a little, his voice low and his breath warm, and he asked, "You like when I speak here, hmm? It feels good, doesn't it?"

"Master…" She was whining, panting, and she mumbled something incoherent. Voldemort squeezed more tightly at her arse and used his fingernails to gently stroke around her thigh with his other hand. He flattened his tongue and dragged it over and over, from bottom to top. Every single time he reached the top, he sucked on her clit for a long moment, and soon enough she was begging him frantically,

"Do not stop. Do not stop. Do not stop."

"Mmmm." She tasted good. Odd. Good. Like metal, like a spoon in delicious warm soup. He had strange distant thoughts as he licked and sucked at her, and then suddenly he realised he was about to come in his own trousers if he wasn't careful. He needed to finish her off and let his own erection die; he'd be able to handle it. This was for her. It was her birthday.

She was coming all of a sudden, her body clenching with strong contractions that made blood rush straight between his legs. She was moaning loudly, smacking her hands against the wall, her folds snapping around Voldemort's lips. He groaned and heaved himself to his feet, dragging the inside of his wrist along his mouth. He'd need to Scour himself, even having shaved off the silver beard that Bellatrix hadn't seemed to like very well. As for her, she looked shocked and exhausted, and most of all beautiful.

"Well." She stood up off the wall, blinking slowly, and she murmured softly, "You certainly made up for lost time, My Lord."

"Put on your dress," he said playfully. "We've got a party to go to."

* * *

"May I have your attention, please?" said Corban Yaxley with an Amplified voice in the Malfoy Manor ballroom. The one hundred invited guests, all of whom had coveted their invitation to the Dark Lady's birthday party, went silent at once. Bellatrix nervously held her glass of white wine, her fourth, and felt unsteady on her feet.

"Give all due attention and respect to your lord and master now," said Yaxley, and every head in the room bowed as Voldemort stepped up in front of the crowd. Suddenly Bellatrix remembered another birthday party, one where he'd confessed to killing Etheline Avery, to being unfaithful and ruining his marriage to Bellatrix. They'd married when she'd been sixteen years old.  _Sixteen._  She'd made a vow to Tom Riddle. Things were so different now. She raised her head and watched him look around the room.

"My friends," he said, keeping his voice quiet enough that people would have to make an effort to hear, "Tonight we celebrate a witch whose nerves of steel and courage in battle are entirely unmatched. Tonight we celebrate a witch who raised her niece from birth with aplomb, a witch who saw in an adulterous husband the potential of a Dark Lord. I speak very rarely of personal matters, and I do so deliberately. But I think it is little secret that I am madly in love with the Dark Lady Bellatrix. And her birthday brings me more joy every year than any other day, because she brings me more joy than anything else in my existence. And so we celebrate her, all of us, because she is most deserving of celebration. Raise your glasses, friends, and drink to her health and happiness. To The Dark Lady Bellatrix!"

"The Dark Lady!" cried a hundred voices, and Bellatrix felt profoundly emotional then. She'd had too much wine, probably. She licked her lips and sipped from her wine, too deep a draught, and as people began to mill about and have conversations again, Voldemort approached her.

"I've talked to Mulciber about the Mexican Ministry, Avery about the brawl that broke out with the Chudley Cannons fans, Abraxas Malfoy about Centaur relations, and now I am very tired of business, because this is a birthday party."

He sipped his own wine, and Bellatrix told him,

"That was quite a speech you gave. Quite a toast."

"It wasn't enough." He sipped again. "I'm drunk."

"So am I." She giggled a little and asked, "Shall we dance?"

"Yes. We shall. Mmm-hmm. Because I am very tired of business just now, and I'm drunk, and I should like to dance." Voldemort snatched her wine glass and Vanished it, along with his own, making Bellatrix choke out a little laugh. He grasped her hand and led her toward the dance floor, and as he pulled her into a dancing stance, he informed her,

"You're glistening like a night sky full of stars."

"Well, I've got enough diamonds on to buy a small country, I think," Bellatrix told him as they started to sway. He smirked and asked,

"What have people said? Jealous?"

"Do you remember my old school friends? Opal and Calla?"

"Ah, yes. They've both married now, haven't they?" asked Voldemort. He glanced over to see where Calla was standing looking far more plump than she'd been in their school years, but, then, she'd had three babies in four years. Voldemort turned up his lips. "I remember a party where I rather made a fool of myself trying to make them very jealous of you."

"I remember shoving Opal into a bed at Hogwarts because she said I thought too highly of you and that you were a pervert for having sex with me right after we were married," Bellatrix laughed. "Anyway. That was a lifetime ago. Things have changed."

"So they have. Are the girls still jealous?" asked Voldemort, and Bellatrix felt her eyes crinkle with glee.

"I think they're so green with envy they're positively Slytherin House spirit at this point."

"And your mother?" Voldemort tipped his head, rubbing at Bellatrix's bare back. She'd worn a strapless gown to accommodate the massive diamond choker that stretched down over her collarbone. Bellatrix laughed a little and shrugged.

"I think my mother is so terrified of us both that she knew better than to ask anything about the diamonds round my neck, Master. Don't worry. Everyone is very impressed."

"Good. I wanted to impress people," he murmured. She stared up at him, her smile disappearing, and she whispered,

"What's wrong with the Mexican Ministry?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I don't want to talk business right now."

"It seems important, Master," Bellatrix said softly. Voldemort chomped his lip and said,

"The Mexican Ministry is attempting to encourage MACUSA and the Canadian Ministry to sign a tri-lateral North American agreement wholly disavowing wizarding Britain. Mexico has a very long history of incorporating magic and Muggle cultures together, so the idea of Pureblood supremacy is repugnant to them. They want America and Canada to join them in imposing all sorts of trade embargoes, travel sanctions, things like that."

Bellatrix's lips parted, and she stopped dancing. "That is serious."

"No. We're dancing." Voldemort pulled her back into a stance and started to move insistently. Bellatrix finally swayed with him again, but she gulped and asked,

"Will MACUSA and Canada go along with Mexico, do you suppose?"

"Mexico's the weak link in North America, both in Magical and Muggle politics," Voldemort said dismissively. "What I don't like are other countries talking to one another about us, about punishing us, about keeping their citizens from buying our products or traveling here."

"What can you do?" asked Bellatrix nervously, her heart thumping against the diamonds on her chest.

"I… I'm going to write to the Mexican Minister myself," Voldemort said, "to begin with. Insisting that we have our own culture, and that whilst we respect theirs, we ask the same in return."

"And if that doesn't work?" Bellatrix asked, but Voldemort pinched his lips and said firmly,

"We're dancing right now."

Bellatrix nodded and kept on swaying, but as the song carried on, a feeling of dread settled over her, and it didn't fade until the end of the party.

**Author's Note: Hmmm. So it turns out that if you take over a country with a super discriminatory government, other countries don't like that. Who'd have thought? Sorry for these super fast updates. Please do review. Thanks!**


	5. I Like Not Fair Terms

_Dear Minister Ramos,_

_I write with glad tidings of good will and hospitable communication between our two great wizarding nations. Whilst I have never had the opportunity to visit Mexico, I have heard spectacular things about its natural beauty and, most importantly, its people._

_I fully acknowledge and respect Mexico's long, storied, and beautiful history of melding wizarding culture with non-Magical culture, resulting in a hybrid, shared community that incorporates Magical factors where they would otherwise not be seen. This cultural practise, unique to Mexico, contrasts so sharply with nations like Japan, where the slightest violation of the International Statute of Secrecy results in the death penalty._

_Here in wizarding Britain, we value our wizarding community in a different way from Mexico, as well. Here, we live entirely apart from the non-Magical, whom we call Muggles. For several hundred years, our country has struggled to strike a balance between secrecy, purity of culture, safety, and logic. We have done poorly with this until recently, and we have enacted new policies to ensure that our Magical community exists entirely separately from the non-Magical world here in Britain._

_I hope you can see that our two countries have been tasked with a similar problem and have simply chosen to approach that problem from different angles. There is no need for diplomatic punishment, no need for economic sanctions or travel restrictions. Mexican witches and wizards will always be welcome to buy and sell products to and from Britain. They will always be welcome to visit us. We hope we can say the same for ourselves._

_With all good intention for your nation and mine,_

_Lord Voldemort_

"But it doesn't sound anything like you!" complained Bellatrix as she read the letter. Voldemort took it back and raised his eyebrows.

"Of course it doesn't sound anything like me," he said. "If it did, he'd probably declare war on us. This is the best I can do right now."

"How does one deliver a letter to Mexico from Britain?" asked Bellatrix curiously.

"International Ministerial Floo Network," Voldemort said simply. "Instead of a large fireplace that you climb into, the secretary places the letter into the Floo box and states the country's Ministry where it's going. It's a closed network. Ministries only."

"Oh. Interesting." Bellatrix stood on the opposite side of his desk as he rolled up the letter and bound it with his seal. He scratched a small note to Corban Yaxley, saying to send the letter to Minister Fernando Ramos of Mexico. Then he went to where an owl was waiting by his office window, tied the letter to the owl's foot, and sent the owl on its way. He shut the window and sighed.

"Oh, can I please be through with work for the day?" He touched his fingertips to his forehead and mumbled, "Raging headache."

"Would you like some potion for it?" asked Bellatrix, but he shook his head.

"I always worry things like that will interact with the Chastity Serum."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open, and Voldemort shrugged. She looked like someone had delivered her a nasty surprise. He shook his head.

"What?"

"You still take Chastity Serum?" she asked, and he let out little noise of disbelief.

"Of course I do. Every day. How else would I be -"

"You still have those cravings, Master?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort gulped. He blinked a few times and reminded her,

"We had a small child in the house. She was sleeping just down the corridor from us. For the past five years, we've had sex, what, once a month? If that?"

"Because you've been taking Chastity Serum," Bellatrix said, her eyes welling. Voldemort was confused. He shook his head again and insisted,

"Because we had Morganna with us."

"Well, we haven't got her anymore," Bellatrix reminded him, and he rolled his eyes.

"What, you want me to stop taking the Serum? Go back to the way things were five years ago, when I couldn't keep my hands off of you?"

"You don't miss that?" Bellatrix licked her bottom lip, and he suddenly sensed hunger from her. Perhaps, he thought, she needed him to be the one initiating, and he hadn't been doing that for a very long while now. For five years, sex had been rushed. Quiet. Keep the bed from creaking, no moaning loudly, no pounding. Five years of quiet, quick, furtive, rare sex.

"All right," he nodded. "I'll stop taking it."

"When?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort felt his throat go dry.

"I take it at night. I won't take it tonight. By midnight, I'm… I'm sure I'll be feeling the effects."

Bellatrix smirked. "Thank you, My Lord."

* * *

"Bella?"

He looked all round the bottom level of the house for her, but he couldn't find her anywhere. Finally he saw her sitting out in the back gardens, her full black skirts billowed about her where she sat reading among the rose bushes. The sun was going down; they'd already had dinner. Voldemort just stared. She was so frightfully beautiful. He felt like his power was on a knife's edge, like someone could come and snatch everything he'd made away from him, but there she was, perfect, between the bushes of deep red roses.

He stared and stared, and he suddenly remembered reading  _Roses For Clementine_  on the sofa the night before she left for school. She'd come downstairs and they'd made love for the first time. Forbidden. It had been forbidden; she'd been too young. But she was a woman fully grown now. And he loved her more than ever.

He took her body four times that night. He only stopped because they couldn't breathe, because they couldn't think, and at long last she laughed and moaned that she was sore and tired and sated and that she'd needed this.

Well, he thought as he lay on his back, covered in sweat, his cock limp at last, he'd needed it, too. She'd been loud. The bed had creaked. He'd pounded her. They had taken ages. It had been years since anything like this.

He decided then that he would skip his Chastity Serum every now and then.

They both needed it.

* * *

_Dear Lord Voldemort,_

_If you have heard such wonderful things about my country, I invite you to visit Mexico for yourself. My wife Imelda and I would be pleased to host you at our personal villa in Oaxaca for a state visit. Please bring your beautiful young wife; I hear she is positively charming._

_All negotiations regarding trade embargoes, travel restrictions, and other policies in reaction to your discriminatory government will be made in person. If you will not come to Mexico to discuss these matters with me directly, I will continue talks with MACUSA and Canada for a tri-lateral agreement in opposition to wizarding Britain._

_Again, we look forward to giving you a warm welcome to Mexico. Please let us know when you can come._

_With warmest regards for all those both Magical and non-Magical,_

_-Fernando Luis Zapatero Ramos_

**Author's Note: Oh, my. So perhaps they have to go to Mexico to get this all sorted out. Ramos doesn't exactly seem like a friend, though. And Voldemort's going to have to be on his best behavior if he doesn't want his country in a North Korea situation. Promise this is the last update for today; thank you for dealing with my hypergraphia and thank you for reviewing!**


	6. Something Wicked This Way Comes

"Christmas. We'll go at Christmas. It'll give us plenty of time to prepare. And then he has to stall his political machinations," said Voldemort. "I've already written back and forth with him on the matter. We're to spend Christmas in Oaxaca."

Bellatrix hesitated, and Voldemort rolled his eyes.

"Morganna will be fine spending Christmas with her parents! Bellatrix! This is far more important! The entire fate of the nation is at stake!"

"You're right, of course, Master," said Bellatrix, and she set aside the original letter from Ramos. "So, then. Christmas in Oaxaca. It'll be very merry. I have no doubt."

Voldemort snorted and dragged his fingers over his retreating, greying hair. He looked older than ever, Bellatrix thought. She was twenty-four now, and he was forty-eight. They were so much older than they'd been when she'd been sixteen and he'd been Tom Riddle. So much had changed. He was trying to avoid an international diplomatic crisis. Everything was different now.

"We'll prepare really well," Bellatrix promised him. "We'll have an answer for everything. Every question they could ask us.  _Why do you feel that Muggle-borns are unworthy of inclusion in the Magical community?_ "

"Because they are permanently and irretrievably connected to the world of Muggles," Voldemort said smoothly, "and we believe that complete separation of the Magical and non-Magical worlds is safer and preserves our culture, which we value dearly. We believe these Muggle-born individuals to be accidents of nature, not to be be harmed in any way, but simply to be excluded from participation in our very insular and protected world."

Bellatrix smirked. She began to stalk around the front of Voldemort's desk, trying to play Devil's Advocate in her mind. What would they be asked? What would be demanded of them?

" _Why do you classify people by Blood Status within your Magical community?_ " she asked sharply, and Voldemort rapped his knuckles on his desk, sighing as he seemed to take a moment to formulate a good answer. Finally he said,

"In our unique culture, we have twenty-eight families that comprise an old and prestigious, hallowed canon of the so-called Purebloods. Since we have created initiatives encouraging those with one Magical parent each to marry and have children, we need this system to ensure that we honour and respect these twenty-eight families' long and storied histories."

Bellatrix nodded. That sounded legitimate to her. Would it sound legitimate to Fernando Ramos? She licked her bottom lip and narrowed her eyes, stopping her pacing steps.

" _What role do you serve in the British Ministry of Magic, Lord Voldemort?_ "

He smirked at her. This question would definitely come, and he would need a good, solid answer. He gave her one at once.

"I am merely an advisor," he said immediately, "with a high public profile. Daily governance of our nation is the responsibility of Minister Yaxley and his Departmental Heads."

" _Then why have you come to Mexico and not Minister Yaxley?_ " asked Bellatrix, her heart accelerating, and Voldemort puffed a breath.

"I have come as the cultural representative of a nation begging to be left to its sovereignty without punishment from allies."

"Begging." Bellatrix's eyebrows flew up, and she gulped heavily. "This is going to be an interesting visit."

"We'll prepare really well." He echoed her words. "We have until Christmas. Ramos has agreed to suspend all punitive measures until after the summit."

"How will we get there?" asked Bellatrix. "Floo, like the letter?"

"Oh, no. It's much too dangerous to send humans through Floo over that distance," said Voldemort. "Unfortunately, our travel to Mexico is going to make us look like raging hypocrites. When traveling across the Atlantic, witches and wizards have always just hitched a ride with Muggles doing the same. For hundreds of years, that meant boats. Now it means aeroplanes."

"Aeroplanes!" Bellatrix's eyes went wide, and she jabbed a finger at the window. "You mean those silver things flying through the sky? I don't trust those things! Not for a moment! I don't trust Muggles to keep those things aloft! I've heard stories of them crashing and everyone aboard dies! Master! Please, there must be some other way to get there!"

Voldemort let out a very long sigh and shook his head helplessly. He finally said,

"They still run ocean liners. The  _Queen Elizabeth 2_  is a steamship that crosses the Atlantic. It takes days on each side of the voyage. We can't really afford that time, and sailing that water in the winter is going to be terribly rough. Listen. If the aeroplane crashes, I'll fly and save us. We won't die in a Muggle crash, all right?"

"But we will look like raging hypocrites," Bellatrix pointed out. "What about a Portkey?"

"Over that distance?" Voldemort shook his head. "We could do a series of them. One to New York, another to Texas, another to Oaxaca."

"Yes! Yes, let's do that!" Bellatrix was excited now. "If we could show up in Oaxaca saying that we arrived by Magical means, don't you think it will bolster our claim that the Magical and Muggle worlds not only should but  _can_  exist entirely separately?"

Voldemort cocked up and eyebrow and nodded. "Yes. You're probably right. So that's the plan, then. Portkeys to New York, Texas, and Oaxaca. We'll need a load of Nonemesis Draught."

Bellatrix was about to answer, but then there was knocking on the office door. Voldemort scowled at the door and said quietly,

"Lucius. Hm. Enter!"

She was always amazed by his ability to sense people, to reach out with Legilimency as though it were nothing at all. Just using her Occlumency shields felt like such a monumental effort, but nothing seemed like an effort to Lord Voldemort. Bellatrix turned her eyes toward the door and watched as Lucius Malfoy came walking inside. He shut the door, bowed low to Voldemort and then to Bellatrix, and asked,

"Please, Your Lordship, may we speak about Morganna?"

"What's wrong with her?" Bellatrix blurted, but Lucius shook his head and insisted,

"No. No. She's fine, My Lady. It's just… may I sit?"

"Do. Voldemort wandlessly pushed out the chair opposite him, and Bellatrix went to stand beside the place where Voldemort sat. Lucius sank into the chair and looked wan and nervous. He fiddled with his hands in his lap and said cautiously,

"She has begun to duel."

Bellatrix stared down at Voldemort, who stayed perfectly calm as he asked in a clip,

"Who is she dueling?"

"No one. The… the wall. It's… she's begun to throw offensive spells. She doesn't use incantations. She doesn't know the names. But she'll use a Knockback Jinx on a chair and giggle when it flips over. She'll throw up a Shield Charm when it's raining outside and laugh because she isn't getting wet. Yesterday she Conjured fire and said she was camping in the gardens with her dolls."

"She's ready," Voldemort said quietly, and Bellatrix asked,

"Ready for what, Master?"

"Ready for training," he said firmly. Lucius looked horrified.

"My Lord, she is only five years old!" he exclaimed, but Voldemort slammed a fist on the desk and snapped,

"If I'd wanted your opinion, Malfoy, I'd have asked for it. Morganna may be your daughter, but she's only your daughter because you were terrified you were going to die doing my bidding when you were fourteen years old, so you had unprotected sex with your little girlfriend and put a child on her. That's the only reason Morganna has your blood. That little girl was fed and taught and nursed to health from sickness by Bellatrix. She was rocked to sleep by  _me_. You've had custody of her for precisely, what, six weeks, and you're making demands over what she does? Shut up! Be silent now."

The room went deathly still. Bellatrix watched as Lucius looked like he was going to be sick on the floor, and he finally whispered,

"I am very sorry, My Lord, for my insolence."

"Quite right," Voldemort snarled. "We ought to just take her back. She's ours, you know. Morganna. She's ours."

Bellatrix's eyes welled at that. She remembered what he'd said lying in bed staring up at the ceiling.  _She was never ours._  Now he'd appeared to have changed his tune.

"The girl will live with her mother and father and be trained by her master," Voldemort said softly. "She will be trained by her Aunt Bella. Do you understand me, Lucius?"

"Y-Yes, Sir," Lucius nodded, bowing his head contritely. Bellatrix asked quietly,

"When do we begin with her, My Lord?"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "We begin now. Go fetch her, Lucius."

* * *

"Right," said Voldemort where they stood in a large expanse of grass behind Malfoy Manor, "You're too young for a wand, and, in any case, you don't appear to need one. What you do need is a target, and incantations to have more control."

Bellatrix stood to the side watching; she'd agreed to just observe this first lesson. Morganna had come outside into the drizzly day in a waterproof black cloak over her velvet dress, so she was bulky, but the poor child didn't seem to mind. Her silver hair was yanked into a tight braid down the back of her head, and suddenly Bellatrix remembered the vision she'd had years earlier, of Morganna in battle. She'd looked just a little older than this, but her face was exactly right. Her hair was exactly right.

"What's an preclantation?" asked Morganna from where she stood, about ten paces away from Voldemort, facing him. Voldemort shook his head and corrected her.

"Incantation. Say it. Incantation."

"Incantation," repeated Morganna. "What is it?"

"It's the spell you speak to do something. Like this.  _Wingardium Leviosa._ " Voldemort aimed his wand at a leaf on the grass, swished and flicked his wand, and Levitated the leaf.

"But I don't have to say anything to do that," said Morganna. She aimed her hand at another leaf, and it rose into the air. But it wobbled a little, jerking to the side a bit, less controlled than Voldemort's Levitation.

"You'll be steadier with the spell," he promised. "Try again.  _Wingardium Leviosa. Wingardium Leviosa._ "

Morganna gave an irritated sigh, let the leaf flutter to the ground, and finally aimed her hand at it again as she incanted perfectly, " _Wingardium Leviosa._ "

This time the leaf raised up into the air and floated perfectly within Morganna's control. She moved it around, smiling broadly. Bellatrix clapped her hands, feeling supremely proud of Morganna, and she caught the Dark Lord's eye as he gave her a look that seemed to say,  _See how gifted she is?_

"I want to know the spell for what I did the day Mummy and Daddy took me away." Morganna let the leaf fall, and Bellatrix's smile disappeared. She frowned deeply, staring at Voldemort, wondering what he would do. He approached Morganna and asked,

"You mean when you blew apart the entire foyer of Marsham House?"

"Yes." Morganna did not seem very apologetic about the damage she'd done. She stared right up at Voldemort and asked, "What did I do that day?"

"You lost control, Morganna," Bellatrix answered from where she stood, but Voldemort cut in,

"You cast something called a Blasting Curse. The incantation in  _Confringo._ "

"My Lord!" Bellatrix felt fear flush through her. Voldemort gave her a challenging look, daring her to defy him now. Bellatrix shook her head and argued, "She's five years old. Gifted beyond measure, yes, but five! She could get herself killed casting Blasting Curses!"  
"You could get yourself killed casting Blasting Curses," Voldemort said down to Morganna. The little girl smirked and then turned to Bellatrix, saying in a warm voice,

"I'll be extra careful, Aunt Bella. Promise."

"Please at least teach her how to put up a Shield Charm first!" Bellatrix begged, and Voldemort rolled his eyes.

"You know that little rain shield you put up?  _Protego._  Like protection.  _Protego._ It'll shield you from any rocks or sticks or anything you blow apart. Go on; try it now."

" _PROTEGO!"_  screamed Morganna, and she thrust her hands up in the air. A vivid blue bubble appeared around her, a web of protective light, one of the strongest shields that Bellatrix had ever seen. Voldemort gave Bellatrix a look and tipped his head, and he asked sarcastically,

"Can I teach her to blast apart a boulder now?"

Bellatrix just sighed. Morganna took down her Shield Charm, and she asked,

"What was the spell again? The one for the… the Blasting Curse?"

" _Confringo,_ " Voldemort informed her, and Bellatrix's heart and breath sped up as she pulled out her own wand in case she needed to protect Morganna from her own damage. Morganna aimed her hand at a large boulder sitting in the middle of the field, and she cried,

" _Confringo!"_

Morganna shrieked then, for the boulder exploded with a fiery burst of force that sent a hundred thousand pebbles flying in every direction.

" _Protego!_ " Bellatrix heard Morganna exclaim, and she watched a Shield go up around the little girl. Bellatrix quickly put a shield around herself, and the rocks that flew through turned into sand. Voldemort had a shield up, as well, and once all the detritus had settled, a flock of terrified birds flew overhead squawking, and then silence fell.

It began to rain harder, and Bellatrix called,

"That was more than I expected of an adult with a wand, Master, much less a five-year-old wandless."

"Morganna," he said, almost sternly, "You could get yourself killed casting Blasting Curses. Fine work today. Let's go inside."

**Author's Note: Whew! Practice for Mexico and stupid Lucius and awesome Morganna! If you can taste some "I didn't take my Chastity Serum today" lemonade coming, you may be onto something. Thanks as always for reading, and a huuuuuuuuge thank you for reviews.**


	7. Hearts More Proof Than Shields

"You don't have to come," Bellatrix said as she carefully smeared lipstick over her bottom lip.

"He's my father-in-law." Voldemort buttoned up his black tunic and dragged a comb through his hair. Bellatrix stood in the bathroom doorway and snapped her lipstick shut.

"You're the Dark Lord," she reminded him, as if he didn't know. "No one is going to expect you at the birthday dinner of one of your servants."

"He's my father-in-law," Voldemort smiled. Bellatrix hesitated a little, turning the lipstick over in her fingers and staring at it, and Voldemort frowned. He pulled on his black brocade outer robe and asked carefully,

"Is there some reason I ought not to go, Bella?"

"You must do as you wish. Master." She walked back into the bathroom, and he heard her putting her lipstick back into her cosmetics box. Voldemort scowled. Suddenly he realised the problem.

"You think I'm going to overshadow his birthday," he called into the bathroom. Bellatrix said nothing. When she appeared again in the bathroom doorway, she'd pulled her curls into a loose braid over one shoulder, and she'd fastened up her black silk cocktail dress. Voldemort said again, "You think I'm going to overwhelm the dinner."

Bellatrix sighed and dragged her fingers over her braid.

"It's only that everyone's so afraid of you, My Lord," she said, "and rightfully so. But no one can relax around you. I just worry it will be unnecessarily tense. That's all."

Voldemort tipped his head up rather defensively. "I promised your mother I would come. She was very eager for my presence when we were invited."

"Then you must come, of course." Bellatrix stared at the ends of her hair and mumbled, "I need a trim."

"You don't want me there," Voldemort complained, and Bellatrix threw her hands up in the air.

"Everything is always so formal!" she bemoaned. " _My Lord! My almighty Master! How may I serve you? Is your tea at the proper temperature, Your Lordship?_ "

"Fine. I'll stay here," Voldemort snapped, and Bellatrix sighed.

"No," she said sorrowfully. "Morganna will be there, and she'd be heartbroken if you weren't. You must come."

"I'll try not to be too formal," he promised her, and Bellatrix smirked a bit as she walked over and took his hand.

* * *

"My Lord! How very benevolent of you to grace our humble home on my birthday!" Cygnus bowed low as Bellatrix and Voldemort walked in the front door of the Black family home. Voldemort gave a little smile and passed over the wrapped gift he and Bellatrix had brought - an engraved pocket-watch enchanted to show what the weather would be in three hours' time.

"Happy birthday, Cygnus," Voldemort said as he shut the door behind him. Cygnus babbled his thanks to his daughter and his master for the gift, and then everyone made their way into the dining room, where the others had already gathered. The instant that Voldemort and Bellatrix stepped into the dining room, everyone flew to their feet. Druella, Abraxas, Lucius, Narcissa, and Morganna all stood, and Voldemort knew that this was the stilted formality of which Bellatrix was growing weary. But then Morganna went and ruined it all.

She came dashing over and tossed her arms around Bellatrix, who laughed and bent down to kiss the top of Morganna's silver hair. Morganna moved on to embrace the Dark Lord, which made the others gasp a little. Voldemort crouched down and tucked Morganna's waves behind her ear.

"How are you, creature?" he asked. "Behaving yourself?"

"I try, but I'm not very good. Daddy says I'm naughty," Morganna complained. Voldemort threw up one eyebrow and raised his gaze to Lucius, whose cheeks went pink. Lucius gave an awkward laugh and said,

"Aren't all five-year-olds just a little bit naughty?"

"Do your best to make Mummy and Daddy happy, eh?" Voldemort cupped Morganna's cheek in his hand, and he had a sudden memory of holding her on his hip when she'd been about two years old. He'd been showing her the roses; they'd just bloomed. She'd yanked one off the vine, and in the process, she'd pricked herself on a thorn. She'd cried and cried until Voldemort had healed her up with wandless magic. His eyes burned now, remembering that, remembering the way she'd cried, the way a little drop of red blood had oozed at the pad of her finger, the way she'd tried to say  _Thank you_  through the tears when he'd mended her up. He squeezed at her cheek now and stared into her sapphire eyes, and he murmured,

"Would you like to practise spells again soon, Morganna? Hmm?"

"Yes, My Lord." She reached for the ring she wore round her neck, and he asked her quietly,

"Do you feel ill or anything, wearing that?"

"When I touch it, I feel strong," she whispered, and Voldemort decided it was time for dinner.

The roast chicken was awfully dry, and Voldemort found himself very grateful for Tippy's tremendous cooking. The cake was dry, too. Did this House-Elf not use water, he wondered? He sat silently whilst the others sang the birthday song to Cygnus; it seemed undignified that the Dark Lord should sing a song to his servant. But he clapped quietly when Cygnus blew out the candles, and then he and Bellatrix made a little conversation and bid everyone a good evening.

When they got home, each of them slowly undressing, Voldemort asked Bellatrix in a careful tone,

"Is tonight… a good night for you?"

"What do you mean, Master?" She was slithering into a small black nightgown, and he clarified,

"I've not yet dosed myself with Chastity Serum. Is tonight… would it…?"

"Oh." Bellatrix's cheekbones went the colour of tomatoes. She stalked slowly around the bed and whispered, "Do you feel… do you feel it yet?"

"Not quite yet," Voldemort admitted, a little embarrassed. "In a few hours, perhaps. I'm still a little wet from the wine, and…"

He stopped then, because a strange feeling had come over him, emanating from his chest. He knew this sensation. It was the powerful urge he felt toward her, the need.

"On second thought," he whispered, "Now seems like a good time."

"Master?" Bellatrix asked, staring up at him with her wide brown eyes, "will you be a little rough with me?"

"Rough?" He tried to swallow past the knot in his throat. She nodded.

"All these years of us being quiet and quick. Then the other night, it was sweaty and wondrous, but still gentle, and I… I just want you to own me."

Voldemort felt his cheeks flush at that, and something else, too. He shoved down his pyjama trousers and snarled,

"Take off that nightgown."

Bellatrix sucked in breath and pulled at the lace hem of her little nightgown. She edged it up and over her head, tossing it aside. She gasped then, for Voldemort shoved her roughly onto the bed. She landed with an  _oof_  and scrambled backward on her hands and feet as he kicked his trousers away and crawled up onto the bed.

Suddenly his hands were all over her. He squeezed viciously at her breasts and whispered,

"I adore these. These beautiful breasts. All mine. Made for my hands."

He slid his fingers down over her ribs and squeezed at her waist.

"Skinny little thing. Mmm, but I like it. Pretty little thing."

He sawed his hand between her thighs and twisted two fingers into her, laughing, a low rumble.

"Already wet. She wants it, doesn't she? Mmm… Bella…"

He bent to kiss her, smashing his mouth against hers and digging his tongue against her lips. She opened her mouth immediately to let him in, and he snaked his tongue around her mouth. He twisted and slammed his fingers inside of her, playing with her clit, flicking at it, drawing circles on it with his thumb. She arched up and held fast to the blankets, but Voldemort pulled his mouth from hers and whispered,

"If you come, you'll be punished."

"N-No! I can't help it; you're going to make me…" She drove her head back as his fingers worked, twisting, pushing, pulling, flicking, circling. She let out a frustrated groan through clenched teeth and whispered, "I'm going to!"

"Don't you dare." Voldemort put his lips beneath her ear and kissed her, breathing low and slow onto her flesh. He raised his lips up to her ear, dragging his teeth along her earlobe, pushing hard on her clit, and he murmured, "Don't come."

"I… can't…" Bellatrix arched up further, crying out loudly, and then she lost herself. She was clenching around his fingers, her neck gone fiery hot beneath his mouth as he kissed her through it. He kissed and kissed and felt her contractions, and then Voldemort ripped his mouth and his hand from her and sat up.

"I told you you'd be punished," he informed her, and he commanded, "Roll over onto your belly."

Bellatrix moaned softly, whether in satisfaction or protest, he had no idea. He watched her move, watched as her beautiful expanse of back was exposed to him, and he dragged his fingernails down over the milky skin there. She shivered beneath him, and he warned her,

"Ten smacks for coming when I explicitly told you not to. Count them."

"Yes, Master," she mumbled into the pillow. His cock was so hard now that it hurt, and when he looked down, a dewy drop of precome had materialised at the tip. He needed to hurry up, or he wasn't going to last. He growled a little and raised his hand up, up until he knew it would hurt like hell when he brought it down.

_SMACK!_

"Agh! One!" Bellatrix's voice trembled against the pillow where she had her arms folded beneath her. Voldemort's fingers stung like mad from how hard he'd spanked her. It felt good. He looked at the way her flesh had gone pink, and he rubbed the round side of her buttock. It was getting hot from the strike. He raised up his left hand and brought it down.

_SMACK!_

"T-Two…" Bellatrix mumbled helplessly. By the time they reached seven, she was sobbing, and he almost asked her if she wanted him to stop. But he could see that she was dripping wet; there was fluid leaking from her womanhood down the inside of her thigh. She was incredibly turned on by this. Finally he reached his last strike, his hand hurting badly now.

_SMACK!_

"T-T-Ten!" Bellatrix groaned loudly into the pillow, and Voldemort took hold of his cock.

"Keep your legs together. Nice and tight for me," he ordered her. He arranged himself on his hands and knees and angled himself until he could enter her with her flat on her belly, and when he did, he was grateful for the angle. She was so tight like this, and he was grinding against her just right. He could go so deep; this felt beyond delicious. He thrust a few times and then stopped, whispering,

"I'm going to come."

"Master?" Bellatrix turned her head and sniffled, and he waited for her to speak. She finally found his eyes, and she whispered, "Every day I shall love you more."

That did him in. He remembered giving her the locket in which he'd written that message, all those years ago, before their divorce, when she'd been little more than a child. He snapped his hips a few times and exploded with pleasure, his come leaping into her and then oozing back out in its bounty. He stayed inside of her as he caught his breath, as he realised that she was wearing that locket right this very moment, and after a very long while, he mumbled,

"Signing the contract to marry you was the most intelligent thing I've ever done in my entire life, Bellatrix. Now let's get some sleep. I'm going to want you again in a few hours."

**Author's Note: Yay Lemonade! And love! But, wait! Morganna feels stronger when she holds the Horcrux. What the heck does** _ **that**_   **throwaway factoid mean? *Gasp* Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	8. A Scar Nobly Got

"Bella."

She looked up from where she sat in the Conservatory reading a copy of  _Lavender For Lola_ , and she flashed Voldemort a little smile. But her happiness dissipated at once when she saw the solemn look in his dark eyes and the way he clutched a parchment in his hand.

"What's the matter, Master?" Bellatrix shut her book and rose from her chair.

"It's Morganna," Voldemort said simply, and Bellatrix tossed the book onto the chair.

"What's wrong with Morganna?"

Voldemort glanced down at the paper in his hand. "She's hurt or ill. I'm not sure which. Lucius wrote saying they've got a Healer from St Mungo's at Malfoy Manor now, and he's asked us to come at once. It doesn't sound good."

"What?" Bellatrix's heart raced inside her chest, and she dashed over to where Voldemort stood. "Then we must go! Now! Master, please, let's go!"

He nodded, Disapparating straight away, taking her by Side-Along. They came to in the gardens outside Malfoy Manor, and Voldemort swished his wand through the air to let down the wards that would normally keep intruders at bay. He and Bellatrix walked swiftly through the garden gate, and he Vanished the parchment from his hand. Bellatrix trotted to keep up with Voldemort's long strides, which accelerated when they saw the double doors at the front of the manor open and Lucius Malfoy come walking out, looking haggard and exhausted.

"Lucius!" called Bellatrix, running now. "What's wrong with Morganna?"

"Come with me, please, My Lord. My Lady." Lucius turned and walked back toward the house, and Voldemort and Bellatrix followed. In the foyer, as they ascended the stairs, Lucius explained in a weary, hoarse voice,

"She was playing out in the gardens with her dolls as she so likes to do. It was warm and sunny earlier this morning, so we let her go out there to play. Cissy and I were sitting at an iron table out there in the garden, playing Wizard's Chess. Then, all of a sudden, we heard this enormous explosion. We looked up to see a fireball where the rowan tree had once stood. Narcissa screamed bloody murder and started running toward the tree, and then I realised what had happened."

"She blew it up," Voldemort moaned, touching his fingers to his forehead. "She blew up the tree."

"It fell on her." Lucius stopped in the corridor and gave them grave looks. "The burning tree… it fell on her. We put out the fire and Levitated the tree off of her, but it was too late. She was crushed, unconscious. We sent for a Healer straight away. They've got her up in the nursery."

Suddenly Bellatrix found herself filled with a rage she had never known herself to possess. She turned to Voldemort, stared up at his face, and hated him. She glared up at him, remembering the way he'd laughed about Morganna blowing up boulders, and she slapped Voldemort as hard as she possibly could.

"I told you!" she screamed. "I told you she would get herself killed with Blasting Curses!"

Voldemort touched his fingers to the quickly pinking cheek where Bellatrix had slapped him. Lucius looked horrified. He was shocked - and probably frightened for his life - having witnessed  _anyone_  actually slap and scream at the Dark Lord himself. But Voldemort let out a shaking sigh and whispered,

"You are rightfully enraged, My Lady. I was unwise in this matter."

"I told you." Bellatrix was sobbing now, imagining Morganna lying beneath a burning, blown-up rowan tree. Crushed. Her little body ruined. Bellatrix could scarcely breathe, and she felt all of a sudden like she was going to faint. She leaned heavily against the wall and murmured,

"Morganna…"

"Bella, she'll need you to be strong now," Voldemort said softly. "Lucius, take us to her."

She felt Voldemort's fingers slip through hers, and he held her hand as they walked behind Lucius through the corridors of the manor and up the flight of stairs that led to the nursery wing. Bellatrix heaved irregularly with little hiccuping sobs as she walked, and she finally whispered,

"I'm sorry I struck you, Master."

"It's over. Focus on Morganna," he said in return, and Bellatrix just walked with him until they reached the nursery, whose double doors had been flung wide open. Inside, there appeared a sorrowful scene.

Morganna's beautiful bed, with its white lace eyelet bedding, was surrounded by adults. There was an aged Healer in lime green robes, two red-gowned matrons, and Narcissa Black sitting in a chair, looking glaze-eyed and sedated. And in the bed, lying as still and pale as if she were dead, was Morganna Malfoy, the Dark Lord's ring still round her neck.

"Healer Comstock," Lucius said by way of introduction, and everyone in the room except for Narcissa and Morganna bowed low to the Dark Lord and Lady.

"Healer, sir," said Voldemort, eyeing the catatonic Narcissa, "We have already heard about the incident itself. Please summarise her injuries and the plan of treatment."

"Yes, My Lord." Healer Comstock looked very anxious all of a sudden. He stared at the child in the bed and said, "We have put her into suspended animation, a Magical Coma, using Draught of Living Death. Such are the extent of her injuries and the extreme pain she would be in were she approaching consciousness."

"You gave her Draught of Living Death?" Bellatrix walked up to the bed and reached a hand out, wanting to touch Morganna but not wanting to hurt her. She resisted the urge to stroke Morganna's silver braid. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she listened to Healer Comstock say,

"The burned flesh can be healed, and we have already applied complex Burn Treatment Salves and Potions to the affected areas. Those will not even scar, probably. But the real problem is how she was crushed. You see, we performed Magical assessments of the bones in her legs and spine. First of all, the bones in her legs are not just broken. They are splintered into smithereens. This is not something that Skele-Gro will fix overnight. If they do heal, they'll never be quite the same. Secondly, she has a grave spinal injury - several of her vertebra fractured and dislocated. Whilst we attempted to put them back into place, the outcomes for these injuries are usually… well…"

"Well  _what?_ " Bellatrix snapped, looking up from the bedside. She swiped at her eyes. "She's got crushed legs that won't heal just the same, and you tried fixing her back. But you're hesitating. What is it?"

Healer Comstock looked like he'd be sick on the floor, like he feared the reaction of the Dark Lord and Lady to what he was about to say. He swallowed hard, looked at his matrons, and then at Lucius, who stared at the window. Finally, he told Bellatrix,

"It is very unlikely that Morganna will ever walk again."

"What?" Bellatrix stared down at their silver-haired, sapphire-eyed creature, and she fell to her knees. Suddenly she realised why Narcissa was sedated in the chair. She could not breathe, not even one breath. She clasped at the white blankets on Morganna's bed and whispered,

"No, no, no, no, no."

"Bella." Voldemort was pulling her off the ground, cradling her against his chest. She let him hold her, and she shut her eyes, and suddenly a memory flooded into her mind, clear as a bell.

' _Lookit!'_

' _Oh, very well done, Morganna!' Bellatrix clapped her hands as Morganna wandlessly changed the roses to be blue. Morganna giggled and smacked her hands into the air, and suddenly the roses were purple._

' _Lookit!'_

' _Brilliant!' Bellatrix laughed again, and she let Morganna keep changing the colours until a voice called from the door of Marsham House._

' _Tippy says dinner's ready!'_

_Bellatrix looked up and called to Voldemort,_

' _She's changing the colour of the roses all on her own.'_

' _Terrifying little creature,' he grinned. 'Come eat dinner.'_

Bellatrix buried her face into Voldemort's chest and whimpered. She shook her head and said helplessly,

"She's always been far too gifted for her own good. Now look where it's gotten her."

"She'll walk again," Voldemort said confidently. Bellatrix stared up at him, and his face was steely. He glared at the Healer, and he said with all the assurance of a man who seemed to know precisely what he was talking about, "Morganna will run through meadows again."

"Well, My Lord. I hope that comes to pass," said Healer Comstock, but he did not sound very convinced.

"How long will she be in suspended animation?" asked Voldemort, and the Healer replied,

"Four, five weeks. It will take a good long while for her to heal, Sir."

"When she wakes, Lucius," Voldemort said, turning to the boy who was just becoming a man, "She will come and finish healing with us. She will be living with us from now on. You and Narcissa can't handle her. She's too much for you. I am not asking. This is my will. This is my command. And, Bella, she will be us always. She will come with us to Mexico for Christmas. All right?"

Bellatrix gulped hard and chewed her lip. She shut her eyes and nodded.

"Yes, Master."

**Author's Note: Whew! That was an emotional rollercoaster to write! I'd love your feedback. Thanks as always for reading.**


	9. There Are No Comets Seen

_Lord Voldemort walked out of his office in Marsham House, where he had been writing a lengthy reply to Corban Yaxley about Mudblood registration and about sporadic commemorations of Albus Dumbledore's death. He was tired of working today. He shut the office door and heard peals of laughter from the Conservatory, so he started toward there._

_Inside the glass-lined room, he found Bellatrix sitting on the ground, her black skirts hiked up to her knees. Before her was Morganna, just nine months of age, and she was…_

_She was walking._

' _Master, look!' Bellatrix exclaimed. 'She's walking! Look at her, Master!'_

_Morganna toddled a few steps to Bellatrix, then fell hard to the side and began to wail in protest. Bellatrix quickly scooped her up into her arms and cooed,_

' _Oh, it's all right, Morganna! You were walking, big girl, weren't you? You fell down! It's all right!'_

_Voldemort smiled a bit and walked into the Conservatory. He crouched down next to Bellatrix, only a little way away, and he extended his arms._

' _Walk to me, creature!' he told Morganna. 'Walk to me!'_

' _M00 Doo! Moo Doo!' babbled Morganna nonsensically, jabbing a finger almost angrily at Voldemort. But she stood up away from Bellatrix, wobbled on her legs, and then took a shaking step toward Voldemort._

' _Nine months,' Bellatrix said in awe, and Voldemort grinned like a madman as Morganna waddled toward him. As she approached him, she fell into his arms, and he swept her into an embrace and kissed her silver hair._

' _Good girl,' he said softly to her. 'Good work, creature.'_

"Morganna." Lord Voldemort sat in a chair beside his silver-haired creature's bed, and he held her hand in his as he stared at her. She seemed like she was sleeping, though with Draught of Living Death, it really was more like she was dead. Her tiny face was peaceful, serene, and Voldemort studied her, hoping she wasn't in pain as the spells and potions intended to put her leg bones back to rights did their work. He couldn't fathom the medical magic taking place inside her thighs and calves and knees right now. Splinters and fragments of bone were trying to find one another, trying to reunite, to form again. But it was as the Healer had said. The bones would never be exactly the same. His little creature would never be exactly the same.

"My Lord?"

Voldemort turned from where he sat to see Lucius Malfoy in the open doorway of the nursery. He blinked a few times, tired; he'd been here for going on twelve hours now. Lucius sighed and nodded.

"Thank you for letting me get some respite, Master."

"I told you that she's ours," Voldemort snarled quietly, and Lucius just nodded again. Voldemort tipped his head. 'What do you need, Lucius?"

"Master, Minister Yaxley has come to meet with you. He says it is exceedingly important."

Voldemort eyed Morganna and reluctantly released her hand. He stood from his chair and approached Lucius.

"Send for the Dark Lady at Marsham House. I made her go get some sleep. She'll want to be here if I have to leave."

"Yes, My Lord," Lucius agreed. He hesitated. "May I have Narcissa sit with her, as well?"

"If the Dark Lady agrees, then, of course," nodded Voldemort. He glanced back at Morganna and suddenly remembered again that feeling of wrapping her up into his arms when she'd taken her first steps. His eyes burned like mad, and he whispered to Lucius, "She'll walk again."

* * *

"Master." Yaxley bowed low outside of Voldemort's office. As Voldemort opened the office door and beckoned for his Minister to follow him inside, Yaxley asked cautiously, "How is Miss Malfoy doing, Sir?"

"The Lady Morganna," Voldemort corrected. "I want it decreed. She is to be referred to as The Lady Morganna. She is the ward of The Dark Lady and myself; she is not just  _Miss Malfoy_."

"My sincerest apologies, Master, and I shall issue the decree at once," Yaxley said, stammering a little. He sat when Voldemort willed him to do it, and then Voldemort sank into his chair and said,

"You pulled me away from her. This had better be good."

"Well, it isn't… erm…  _good_ , per se." Yaxley pinched his lips. "This morning, Master, three rebels appeared in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. They spoke your name in unison, thus breaking the Taboo deliberately. They… they shouted the name. They willingly went into custody, and as they did, they were screaming things like…  _Down with…_  well, you know."

" _Down with Lord Voldemort_ ," he whispered, and Yaxley nodded nervously. Voldemort licked his lip and asked, "Who were they?"

"Scraps of the Order of the Phoenix. They've been in hiding for years. Fugitive Mudbloods. Viviana Applegate, Holly Rightfold, and Theatrix Boatwright."

"Women, all three of them," Voldemort noted. He smirked and quoted, " _And the fiercest of the rebels shall be the witches._ "

"Who said that, Master?" Yaxley asked, and Voldemort put up an eyebrow.

"I did. Three years ago. So these Mudblood rebels broke the Taboo on purpose. Are they dead?"

"They are awaiting execution, My Lord," Yaxley said. "I wasn't sure how public you wanted to make it. This is the first instance of the Taboo being broken on purpose, and it seems they need an example made of them."

"Quite so. Go back to the Ministry and gather every employee who will fit into the Atrium. Bring the Mudblood rebels there under guard. I'll meet you there in an hour and do it myself," Voldemort said. Yaxley looked surprised, but he nodded fervently and said,

"Yes, Master. We shall see you then."

* * *

Bellatrix was calm and collected as she and Lord Voldemort Apparated into the Ministry Atrium and strode forward. Voldemort thought she looked marvelously beautiful, clad in skintight black leather with raven feathers at her shoulders. She had black lipstick on; she had lined her eyes with thick kohl. She had come looking like an angel of death.

"You certain  _you_ don't want to do it?" Voldemort teased her as the crowd parted and bowed. Bellatrix smirked, eyes forward, and reminded him,

"It must be you, Master."

"This will not help with Mexico," he lamented, and Bellatrix huffed beside him.

"Hell take Mexico."

Voldemort curled up half his mouth at his dangerous, beautiful bride, remembering how she'd nervously dropped his wedding ring on the day he'd first married her. She'd been sixteen and terrified of him. She wasn't terrified of anything now. Well. Perhaps she was terrified of what had happened to Morganna. Perhaps she was terrified of that, but she wasn't showing it right this moment.

"Traitors!" Bellowed Lord Voldemort into the space of the Atrium. Before him, up on a platform, three witches had been bound with Conjured ropes to shiny metal posts. One of them squirmed and tried to scream, but they'd obviously been Silenced. Voldemort put his finger to his lip and shook his head.

"Hush, Miss Rightfold. Mudbloods should be seen and not heard. Well. They shouldn't be seen, either."

A rumble of laughter went round the crowd of gathered Ministry employees, most of whom seemed relatively anxious. Bellatrix called out in a steady, sure voice,

"Today we witness the power of the Dark Lord! A Taboo was placed upon the name which must not be spoken by unworthy mouths! The name which unworthy tongues must not deign to pronounce! And yet these Mudblood rebels thought themselves  _brave_  by breaking the law of our nation, by doing that which they could never be worthy of doing! Speak his name and die!"

She shouted that last bit, viciously, and then she repeated it, in such a terrifying snarl that people recoiled in fear.

"Speak his name and die!"

Lord Voldemort pulled out his wand and aimed it at the platform. There was no reason to drag this out any further. He'd make more of a statement by killing them cleanly, quickly, efficiently.

" _Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!_ "

Someone screamed as triple flashes of green light illuminated the space of the Atrium. Gasps of horror and shock rippled through the room, and the witches who had broken the Taboo slumped on their metal posts in death. Someone decided then that it was a good idea to clap, and applause broke out, growing more enthusiastic by the moment as people seemed to collectively determine that roars of approval were the right reaction to what they'd just witnessed.

"Speak his name and die!" called out a voice from the crowd, and then a few others repeated the phrase. Someone else cried out,

"Long live the Dark Lord!"

"Praise the Dark Lord!"

"We're done here," Voldemort said to Bellatrix, seizing her hand and Disapparating from where he stood. When they came to in the foyer of Marsham House, she panted a little, looking energised and eager. But when she put her hands on his chest, still looking beautifully terrifying in leather and feathers and black lipstick, she murmured,

"You're right, Master. This will not help with Mexico."

**Author's Note: I am so incredibly grateful that people are still reading this series three parts in. Thank you so very much for reading this story. Please do leave a review if you get a quick moment; I'd love to know what your thoughts are.**


	10. With Pain Purchas'd

"If they don't stop the hooliganism, we'll completely disband the organisation," Voldemort told Avery. There had been a third brawl between Chudley Cannons fans and opposing fans at a Quidditch match, and it seemed the Chudley fans were making not only a habit but a hobby of starting duels and even fistfights.

"Shall we issue a Ministerial decree of some kind?" asked Avery. "A threat?"

Voldemort rapped his fingers on his desk in his office at Malfoy Manor. "Write this down."

Avery whipped out a parchment from his leather folio, and he pulled out a self-inking quill. He began scratching away as Voldemort spoke.

" _The Dark Lord is most displeased with the recent behaviour of an alarming number of Chudley Cannons Quidditch fans. This raucous and violent show of inanity will no longer be tolerated. Anyone identified as an instigator of a brawl at a Quidditch match will be subject to legal repercussions, and any team with three or more brawls in one season will be permanently disbanded. This is the will of the Dark Lord._ "

Avery finished writing and nodded. "This will be issued at once, My Lord, and put out into the newspaper."

_Knock, knock, knock._

Voldemort frowned up at the door. He sensed Bellatrix.

"Enter."

"My Lord!" She came bursting into the office, a breathless gust of wind, and completely ignored the fact that Avery was sitting there. "Please come quickly. Please come at once. She's awake."

* * *

"How is she awake?" Bellatrix demanded of Narcissa as the two sisters and Voldemort walked with brisk strides up through the corridors. Narcissa was wringing her hands before her.

"Healer Comstock is on his way. He should be up there now. She just woke up screaming. Screaming in pain," Narcissa began to sob softly. "Lucius dosed her with as much Draught of Peace as we had, but it only took the edge off the screaming, and she barely took it."

"He dosed her without asking the Healer first?" Voldemort snapped. "Idiot."

They ascended the stairs and walked toward the most horrific sound Bellatrix had ever heard in her life.

"It hurrrrrrrrrrts! It's awful; make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!"

"Oh, Morganna." Bellatrix began to sprint. She dashed through the double doors of the nursery to see Morganna lying on her back in the bed, shrieking and pounding her little fists on the mattress. Lucius was helplessly standing beside the bed, shushing his daughter, and Bellatrix marched up and shoved Lucius away.

"Morganna?" Bellatrix crouched down beside the bed, and Morganna turned her head, her pale face turned red from crying, tear-streaked and swollen. She heaved and screamed again and then exclaimed,

"Make it stop, Aunt Bella!"

"Where does it hurt, darling?" Bellatrix asked, feeling tears come to her own eyes. "Your legs?"

"Back! Back!" Morganna writhed a little and then let out a shrill yell of agony. "Back! Legs!"

"Someone  _do_ something!" Voldemort bellowed, and Healer Comstock, who was standing on the other side of the bed in his lime green robes, said,

"I've got a special potion with which to dose her, My Lord. My Lady. I was hoping not to use this; Draught of Living Death is actually safer. But somehow her magic was strong enough to wake her through the Draught of Living Death. This is called the Hebetude Serum. It runs a greater risk of slowing the heart and respiration, but the coma it induces is harder to magically break through."

"Give her what you must; the child is in too much pain!" Bellatrix cried. She reached for Morganna's hand, and she watched as Healer Comstock opened his leather medical bag, pulled out a small vial of inky black serum, and uncorked it.

"Now, now, Morganna," he told the shrieking child, "You must drink this all down. All of it. All right?"

"Agh! Make it stop!" Morganna begged the Healer, her face sweaty and her breath panting. "Make the hurt stop!"  
"Darling, that's what they're going to do," Bellatrix assured Morganna, squeezing at her hand. "Drink down the serum now, all right?"

Morganna willingly sipped the vial of black serum, and after a moment, the pain seemed to abate. She went peaceful, lying still, staring at the ceiling, blinking slowly.

"There's a good creature," Bellatrix said, and she stood up, bent down, and kissed at Morganna's dewy forehead. "There's a good, good girl."

"How did she break through the Draught of Living Death?" Bellatrix heard Voldemort demand of Healer Comstock. "I've never heard of that happening."

"Her magic must be profoundly strong," Healer Comstock replied. "That is the only explanation, Sir."

"Well, we all know how strong she is," mumbled Lucius. Suddenly Narcissa whispered,

"I'm going to be sick."

Bellatrix glanced over her shoulder and frowned as Lucius rushed to Conjure a bucket. Narcissa heaved into it, vomiting. She'd been made ill by watching Morganna in pain? Bellatrix supposed that was possible.

"Aunt Bella?" asked Morganna quietly, and Bellatrix petted the child's face as she nodded.

"I'm here."

Morganna blinked a little and asked meekly, "When is Mummy going to have the baby?"

"What?" Bellatrix scowled, staring at her sister, who was finishing up being sick in a bucket. Have a baby? What was Morganna on about? Bellatrix snarled at Narcissa, "What baby?"

"We found out the day before she got injured," Lucius mused, sounding awed, "but we never told her. I don't know how she knows."

"It's written in Mummy's thinking," Morganna said gently, and Bellatrix glared up at Voldemort. Was this child a natural Legilimens? Voldemort blinked rapidly a few times, and he visibly gulped. He whispered,

"What other thinking can you see right now, Morganna?"

She smirked just a little and shrugged where she lay, getting more drugged by the moment.

"Your mind and Aunt Bella's are empty. It's silly."

"Is it?" Voldemort's voice was thin and a little shrill then, and he gave Bellatrix a serious look.

"Well, yes, I should think she has most powerful magic, My Lord," said Healer Comstock. "But our hope is that this serum will keep her asleep. She'll need it administered daily; I shall come and do that, of course. And she'll need more monitoring in case her heart and respiration get too low. But her healing is painful, as you can see. We can't have her enduring that pain awake."

"No, we can't," said Bellatrix, and she watched as Morganna's heavy eyelids shut. She seemed to be sleeping then, breathing slowly and deeply. Bellatrix whirled and demanded of Narcissa, "When were you going to tell me you were pregnant?"

"It's still so early," Narcissa said defensively, "and then everything went wrong with Morganna. It didn't seem like the right time to discuss it."

"No, I suppose not." Bellatrix sighed deeply and chomped her lip. "Well, congratulations, I suppose."

* * *

"I hated leaving her," Bellatrix said later as they climbed into their bed at Marsham House. "I hated leaving her there after she'd been screaming in pain."

"I've told you, Bella, that she'll be with us after she wakes for good," Voldemort assured her. "But I've been thinking about something."

"Have you?" Bellatrix folded her hands over her waist and stared up at the ceiling. Beside her, Voldemort said,

"I enjoy loud sex with you. Long, loud sex. We won't be able to do that once Morganna comes back to live here."

Bellatrix frowned a little. "Oh. No, we won't. It'll be back to the years of quiet, quick -"

"No, it won't," Voldemort insisted, "because we're moving."

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows and flicked her eyes over to her husband. "We are?"

"I built this house when I was Tom Riddle and I was marrying into the aristocratic Black family, marrying their sixteen=year-old daughter and needed a place for her to call home," Voldemort reminded her. "This is a small house. This was never intended on being the palace of the Dark Lord. Even Ramos in Mexico has a personal villa capable of hosting a state visit. We need better."

"Better than Malfoy Manor?" Bellatrix smirked, and Voldemort scratched at his jaw.

"There is a stately home, a great country house, almost like a palace, that the Muggles built which was in ruins," Voldemort said, "in North Yorkshire, on a moor. It was enormous; it was outfitted with great halls and countless bedrooms. It fell into ruin in the after it took some damage during their Second World War. But I've been working on restoring it, and I'll continue working on it. Tarnsey House, it's called. And it's quite literally twenty times the size of this home."

"How will Tippy take care of it all on her own?" Bellatrix fretted for some reason. "We'll rattle about in there."

"Morganna will have her own wing, with her own bedroom and play rooms and bathroom, separate from our wing. We can keep her close and safe and yet have privacy," Voldemort said tightly, "so that we might live the way married couples ought to live."

"Yes," Bellatrix whispered. She could be loud. She could keep her silver-haired creature close and safe. She could have everything.

"And there will be no more use of Malfoy Manor as a headquarters," Voldemort said very tightly. "My office will be at Tarnsey House. I dislike relying on Abraxas and Lucius for meetings and office space."

"Understood, My Lord," Bellatrix agreed. "So. When can I go and see the place?"

"Tomorrow," he promised her. "I'm just making interior adjustments; you can help. It's quite a spacious home, so there's a lot to do. And I could use another wand for all the Muggle-repelling charms and Unplottable spells it'll need."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix felt her heart speed up a little, and she looked round the bedroom that had been home for so many years. She dragged her teeth over her lip and asked carefully, "Can we keep this place, too? Or must we destroy it?"

"Destroy it?" Voldemort turned his face to her and looked at her like she was mad. "Destroy the rose bushes that Morganna changed when she was two years old? Destroy the sofa where I first took your body? Destroy the Conservatory where you so like to read? No, Bella. We will not destroy Marsham House. We're simply moving up. We'll keep this place, always."

"Oh, good." Bellatrix's eyes watered. "Good."

**Author's Note: Poor Morganna! Waking up in pain like that is no good. But she's a natural Legilimens, apparently. And Cissy's pregnant! And they're moving to a grand new home!**

**I would be really quite grateful if you get a quick moment to just let me know what you're thinking of the story so far. I want to make sure I'm writing a story that people are enjoying. Thanks for reading and a huge thanks for feedback.**


	11. Awake, Dear Heart, Awake

"Master?"

He looked up from the copy of  _The Daily Prophet_  he was reading in his office at Marsham House. Soon enough they'd be leaving this place for good, headed on to newer and better things at Tarnsey House. But for now, Voldemort was suffering through the last few days of working in this tiny office, and he glanced up when Bellatrix appeared in the doorway. He remembered a time when he'd asked her to keep this room private for himself. Ha. Those days were long gone.

"Yes?" He set the newspaper down, and Bellatrix walked slowly into the office, clutching a piece of parchment in her left hand.

"I need to go to Malfoy Manor at once," she said, and Voldemort furrowed his brow.

"Something wrong with Morganna?"

Bellatrix shook her head. "Cissy's lost the baby. She insists it's the stress from Morganna's injuries, though the Healer says it happens very frequently this early on and could just be an accident of statistics."

Voldemort sighed. "How's your mother taking it?"

"Don't know, My Lord. She's over there now. Shall I go?"

"Make sure someone's with… you know, I'll come with you, and  _I_  will stay with Morganna through this," Voldemort said. He rose from his chair and said, "The very last thing she needs is a nursery full of chickens with their heads cut off."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix bowed her head and held out her hand. She'd worn a solemn dress of high-necked black lace, Voldemort noted, with her hair tied back into a severe bun. She looked mournful. She was always dressed just right for the occasion. He took her hand and Disapparated, and when the two of them came to outside Malfoy Manor, he swished his wand to let down the wards and marched his way straight into the grand house.

They found Lucius in the corridor outside the nursery upstairs, pacing slowly. He looked dazed, as though he'd taken a solid hit from a Bludger.

"Where is Cissy?" Bellatrix asked sharply, and Lucius sighed as he told her,

"She's bleeding badly. In our bedroom; your mother's in there with her. She told me to wait here; she knew you'd come up here."

"Well, she was right," Bellatrix said, glancing into the nursery. Lucius finally came to his senses and bowed low to the Dark Lord, who just said tensely,

"Condolences on the loss of a Pureblood baby, Lucius. It is a loss we all bear, all of us."

"We mourn with you," Bellatrix added, and Lucius looked tearful then as he said, almost as though reassuring himself,

"We're only nineteen. There's still loads and loads of time to bear plenty of Pureblood children together. Isn't there, Master?"

"Loads of time. Nothing but time," Voldemort assured Lucius. He looked into the nursery and then said, "I'm going to stay here with Morganna whilst Bellatrix goes to her sister. Go to your wife. This is a time for grieving the Pureblood baby that has been lost. Go. I will be with Morganna."  
"Then she could not be in finer hands, Master," Lucius said, and he bowed again. He walked away with Bellatrix, who glanced over her shoulder and shot Voldemort one last look before descending the flight of stairs to the level where Lucius' and Narcissa's room was. Voldemort huffed a breath and walked into the nursery, where a matron was seated, silently watching the child. She stood when he entered, and he nodded his greeting to her.

"Please," he said, "may I have a little time with her?"

"I shall be right outside, Master," said the matron, and her burgundy skirts swished as she walked briskly away. She turned at the door and said gently, "She has been stirring quite a lot today, but never fear - she is entirely unconscious and in no pain."

"Good." Voldemort nodded, and he pulled up the chair beside the bed. The matron shut the doors halfway, and Voldemort took Morganna's hand in his. He watched her breathe, watched her little chest rise and fall slowly, and he remembered a time she'd come down with Holluck Fever when she'd been three.

' _She's burning up like fire,'_  Bellatrix had fretted, holding Chilled cloths to Morganna's head. The little child had moaned miserably in her sleep, had writhed and cried in discomfort, and only time had made the fever pass. It had been awful, watching her suffer like that, watching her endure all of that.

Now he stared at his Horcrux around her neck and hoped it was making her stronger. She'd said it made her feel stronger. He gulped and remembered the Prophecy.

_Tiny fingers clutched round elder._

He reached into his robes and pulled out his wand, the wand of elder wood, and he stared at it for a long moment. He took Morganna's hand from his left one and opened it, placing the elder wood wand into her hand and closing her tiny fingers around it.

Suddenly Morganna gasped and sat straight up.

"Morganna!" Voldemort nearly flew off of his chair in shock. He watched as Morganna panted, holding fast to the wand, staring around the room, looking pink-cheeked and then smirking a little bit. Voldemort tried to call for the matron, but he couldn't find his voice.

"My Lord?" Morganna turned to look at him, and he just nodded at her. She looked down at her hand and turned it over a few times, manipulating her fingers around the knobby wood. "Your wand."

"Yours now, perhaps," Voldemort mused. He frowned and remembered that the wand had to be won, that Bellatrix had won it off of Dumbledore, who had won it off of Grindelwald, and Voldemort had won it off of Bellatrix. He took the wand back from Morganna and instructed her,

"The incantation is  _Expelliarmus._ "

Morganna cleared her throat, and when she spoke, her voice was hoarse from disuse. " _Expelliarmus._ "

The Elder Wand flew through the air, landing squarely again in Morganna's hand. Voldemort let out a shaky sigh and whispered,

"Now it's yours."

* * *

"She's  _awake?_ "

"Morganna!"

"How is she sitting up?"

"Healer Comstock, what's going on?"

There was a great rush of activity as Lucius, Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Druella all came into the nursery. Healer Comstock had been summoned by the shocked matron after Voldemort had finally decided to notify her that Morganna was alert and not in pain.

"I confess," said Healer Comstock to the crowd of adults, "that I find myself entirely amazed. The Dark Lord says that he handed wrapped Morganna's fingers around his wand, and she gasped, awakened, and was not in any pain. I have examined her and found that her spinal injury is healing far beyond anything I could have imagined at this point. Her leg bones are almost entirely healed. And the child claims she feels no pain."

"Nothing hurts," said Morganna nonchalantly, twirling the wand around in her fingers. "This is mine now."

"No, darling; that's the Dark Lord's wand," said Narcissa anxiously. "You'll get your own wand when you turn eleven."

"No, Narcissa; that wand is hers," snapped Voldemort, "and always will be. I'll go back to using my old wand. This wand is Morganna's now."

"Master, she's only five years old," Lucius protested in a hiss, and Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

"Ah, the old refrain. She's only five years old. She was old enough to blow up a tree wandlessly and nearly get herself killed, Lucius; she's old enough for the wand I have gifted her. Be silent."

The room went as still as death then, until Healer Comstock said very quietly,

"I believe the child still requires a good deal of rest. She's been brought books to read, yes?"

"Yes, and I will be staying with her," said Bellatrix rather loudly. "I will stay with her tonight, and someone else can come relieve me in the morning."

"Would you like me to bring you anything?" Voldemort murmured to Bellatrix, but she shook her head and insisted,

"Morganna and I shall read all night until she's sleepy and wants to get some more rest. And then I shall rest beside her. Won't that be lovely, Morganna?"

"Lovely, Aunt Bella." Morganna turned the wand over in her hand and then aimed it at the doors. They slammed shut, and everyone screamed. "Sorry," Morganna whispered, and she opened the doors with nonverbal magic again.

"No more magic until you've healed up," Voldemort commanded her, "but keep that wand nearby you. And if you begin to feel pain, Morganna, I want you to hold it, to clutch it near you and hold it fast. Understood?"

"Understood, My Lord," Morganna whispered. She raised her eyes up and stared at her mother then, and she frowned deeply. Silence took over the room again, and then Morganna asked Narcissa, "Why is the baby gone?"

"Oh." Narcissa's eyes welled up and boiled over at once. She came over to the bed and bent down, kissing Morganna's left hand. "Sometimes it just happens, my sweet. It wasn't anything you did."

"Cissy!" Bellatrix snarled, but Morganna said gravely,

"Mummy thinks it's because I hurt myself. She thinks the baby died because I hurt myself."

"Narcissa!" Voldemort exclaimed angrily. Druella came up and pulled her daughter back, and she worriedly told her granddaughter,

"Mummy doesn't know what to think, Morganna; she's just so sad. That's all. She's just very sad about you and about the baby."

"Did I kill the baby?" Morganna's blue eyes welled, and Voldemort flew to his feet.

"Enough of this! No, Morganna; you getting injured had precisely nothing to do with your mother having what's called a  _miscarriage_ , something that happens all the damned time."

"Language, Master," muttered Bellatrix, but he shot her a look. Voldemort glared at Lucius, Narcissa, and Druella, and barked,

"Out! Get out, the three of you! Go!"

Lucius, Narcissa, and Druella mumbled goodbyes to Morganna and quickly left the nursery, all of them obviously terrified of the Dark Lord's wrath. Bellatrix was seated on the far side of the bed, and Healer Comstock whispered,

"Her heart and respiration monitors are rising. She's upset; we mustn't let her get this upset."

"Bella, calm her down," Voldemort paced with his fingers on his forehead, but Bellatrix said gently,

"I think she'd like you to speak with her, Master."

Voldemort turned to see Morganna staring at him, wide-eyed, his Horcrux around her neck and the Elder Wand in her hand. She was crying, he could see, and she asked again in a miserable voice,

"Did I kill Mummy's baby when I blew up that tree?"

"No." Voldemort went to sit beside Morganna, rushing over to her, and he whispered, "Someday, Morganna, I will ask you to do terrible things for me. I may even ask you to kill for me. But you did not kill your mummy's baby. You understand me?"

Healer Comstock pretended not to be listening. He took a few steps away and said softly,

"Heart and respiration are returning to normal, My Lord."

"You are a brave and wondrous creature," Voldemort told Morganna. She nodded back at him, her sapphire eyes eager. She whispered something then that sent a chill up his spine.

"I will walk again. I will serve you, so I must walk again."

Bellatrix was crying silently on the other side of the bed, but Voldemort just nodded, brought Morganna's knuckles to his lips, and murmured back,

"Yes, creature, you'll walk again."

**Author's Note: Oh, my. So Narcissa's got bad luck with babies - could be a bad sign seeing as Draco wasn't born until 1981 and it's only 1975. Hmmm… But now Morganna's got the Resurrection Stone** _ **and**_   **the Elder Wand. Who's ready to skip ahead a few weeks and see the completed Tarnsey House before we skedaddle off to Mexico? Oh, and there may be a (loud, long, grateful for the private space) lemon in there. Woo hoo!**

**Sorry for not updating yesterday; it was my husband's birthday, so we were a bit busy! I appreciate your readership and definitely any feedback on the story!**


	12. The World's Best Garden He Achiev'd

"My Lord? Morganna's rooms are finished." Bellatrix grinned where she stood at the entrance to Lord Voldemort's massive mahogany-paneled office at Tarnsey House. The ceilings were beamed in here, and half the walls were lined with bookshelves that had been stocked from every book seller in wizarding Britain. Voldemort looked up from his stout wooden desk, broad and heavy that it was, and he smirked a bit. It was difficult to see his face, for the bright light through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him washed him out a bit. But he rose and walked toward Bellatrix as she stepped into the office, and he noted,

"Her rooms were the finishing touch on this place, weren't they? The last bits to be redone?"

"I still can't believe the Muggles let this place go to ruin," Bellatrix marveled. This house had indoor gardens with fountains. They'd enchanted the fountains, bewitched the Magical plants they'd planted, of course. There were two libraries - one on the ground level and one on the first floor.

There was an enormous reception foyer with chequered black and white marble flooring and four giant crystal chandeliers, with twin staircases extending up to the first floor. On the ground floor, there was a ballroom that made Malfoy Manor's look piddling. It had six chandeliers, an endless wall of mirrors on one side and towering windows on the other end, the largest fireplace Bellatrix had ever seen, and was outfitted in absolutely stunning green marble. Beyond the ballroom were dressing rooms for witches attending balls, as well as multiple bathrooms, sitting-rooms, and something specifically called a brandy chamber.

There was a devastatingly large dining room on the ground floor - the one for banquets and meetings, done up in dark wood with green and black accents. There were more parlours and the library on that side of the house, including Bellatrix's favourite parlour with its coral-coloured marble fireplace. One of the parlours on the ground floor had been set aside as a playroom for Morganna. Lord Voldemort's enormous office, and Bellatrix's smaller one, were on the ground floor, too.

The first floor was the private space of the Dark Lord and Lady. One one side of the house were the kitchens, which had been moved and shifted from the ground space to grant privacy. After all, House-Elves used magic for cooking. So their kitchens were on the first floor, along with the family's private dining room. There was also a sunny yellow breakfast nook where Morganna could take her porridge and Bellatrix could eat her grapefruits. There was another library, another two parlours (one of which was a playroom), and a smaller office in case Lord Voldemort wanted to work in privacy from people meeting downstairs. There were two bathrooms on that side of the house, plus the House-Elves' laundry and other facilities. The enchanted gardens were here.

On the other side of the first floor were the apartments of the Dark Lord and Lady, shut away behind heavy doors that were warded to keep out anyone except for family and House-Elves. Their apartment consisted of an antechamber - a parlour of sorts, decorated in pale blue and gold. This led to two dressing rooms, one for Lord Voldemort and one for the Dark Lady. Each dressing room consisted of a private bathroom, a boudoir area for personal grooming, and extensive wardrobe facilities. Through the corridor off which the dressing rooms lay was a sitting room - yet another parlour, though this one was smaller. And finally, at the very end of all of this, was the black and silver bedroom, enormous and hidden away, where Lord Voldemort and his wife would sleep at night.

The second floor of Tarnsey House was half the size of the two levels below it, and it belonged entirely to Morganna. Her nursery was up on the top level, centred over the limestone manor house with its arches and its columns. She had an apartment much like Voldemort's and Bellatrix's, except that hers consisted of a large playroom, a dressing room, a private bath, a smaller playroom, and a bedroom.

Tippy, of course, could never be expected to clean Marsham House  _and_  the monstrosity that was Tarnsey House. So Voldemort had purchased three new House Elves to assist Tippy. At Tippy's request, they had been sprightly young females - Kiki, Morley, and Joba. Even with four Elves, the manor house was a tall ask. Moving from Marsham House into this location had been quite a shock over the last few days.

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix answered Lord Voldemort. "Putting together Morganna's rooms has been the finishing touch. I wanted her to choose the colours herself, and so I had to wait until she woke up and was well enough to discuss the matter."

"And?" Voldemort approached Bellatrix further. "What colours did she choose?"

"Deep red, like the roses at Marsham House," said Bellatrix, and Voldemort scoffed quietly.

"Deep red for a five-year-old girl's nursery?"

"She's no ordinary five-year-old," Bellatrix pointed out. She sighed deeply. "I enchanted her rooms. I made deep red roses grow on vines in her playroom. Painted the walls bright white and twined enchanted red roses all over them. It's…"

"Lovely, I'm sure," Voldemort nodded. He tucked Bellatrix's hair behind her ear and whispered, "You take such care of her."

"Me?" Bellatrix shook her head, demurring. She should always be doing more for Morganna, she thought. But Voldemort cupped her face in his hand and murmured,

"You have been at her side since she woke whenever you could be, when I very often had business. You have been reading to her, talking to her, comforting her." He kissed Bellatrix's forehead. "You have made her rooms a home for her. And you deserve a reward for all of this, Bella. You do."

"I do?" She stared up at her husband, at how handsome he was despite the lines of age cutting across his face, despite the greying of his hair. She wanted him, badly.

"I took my Chastity Serum last night," he whispered, "and still I feel that I could… mmm… this is an awfully big house, Bellatrix, and there is no one here to hear us."

Her lips parted with shock at that. She put her hands to his chest and whispered,

"Where?"

* * *

She hadn't been expecting him to march her up the stairs and over into the enchanted gardens. He barked at a House-Elf to go to Marsham House and take the others with her for a few hours, and Kiki - or was it Morley? - nodded and cowered in fear before Disapparating. Voldemort dragged Bellatrix through the double glass doors into the expansive, window-lined space that felt like the world's most beautiful Conservatory. A fountain of turquoise water bubbled nearby, smelling like the sea, fresh and clean. Giant butterflies slowly beat their blue wings on the leaves of Archimedes' Orchids. White and purple lilies bloomed along a stone-lined waterfall that flowed magically, neverending, into a small pond where Gargamel Fish swam peacefully beneath lily pads. Ferns fell around the entire place. And the sound of a harp playing itself lent the entire environment a blissful air.

"Here?" Bellatrix giggled a little, but Voldemort seemed very serious. He pulled Bellatrix further into the gardens and brought her to a small wrought iron table with two chairs near a window that looked out over a rectangular pond and fountain outside. He sat in one of the chairs and whispered,

"Take off your clothes. Slowly."

Bellatrix's lips fell open again, but she obeyed her lord, her master, her husband. She kicked off the black leather sandals she wore, letting them slide across the stone. She unfastened the thick belt she had on around her waist, her fingers beginning to tremble with anticipation. She set the belt down behind her on the wrought iron table and pulled her black velvet dress up and over her head. Next came her elegant black bra, given for free from the owners of Twillfit and Tattings. Bellatrix managed to unclasp it and lay it on the table with her dress and belt. She was about to peel down the high-waisted black lace knickers she had on when Voldemort held up a shaking hand and shook his head.

"Just... let me look at you for a good long moment, will you?" he commanded her. Bellatrix tried not to cover herself. This was her husband. She had been naked before him so many times before. And yet, now, standing here in this enchanted garden in the new palace that was finally fit for him, she felt more bare than ever. She stared at him, studying his face. He stared straight at her breasts, and she knew he enjoyed them. He wanted to touch them, to kiss them. She could see his burgeoning erection through his trousers as he shoved away his outer robe, and she watched his throat gulp as he blinked slowly and directed her,

"Bella, come here now. Come and sit on my lap."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix walked toward him with as much elegance as she could muster, and she put one leg on either side of his thighs. It was difficult to fit in the chair, and she watched as he wandlessly Expanded it to be wider. Well, of course he could do that, she thought. She was feeling very magically weak these days. She gasped when her knickers ground against his erection, and Voldemort shut his eyes for a moment. His eyes stayed shut as his fingers trickled up Bellatrix's ribcage, and then he blindly flicked at her peaked nipples. She moaned quietly, her back arching and her hands fisting at her sides. Oh, this felt good. Being touched by him like this felt good.

"You don't have to be quiet," he reminded her. "Not even the House-Elves are here."

He leaned forward and clamped his mouth around one of her nipples, sucking a whole mouthful of her small breast into his mouth. Bellatrix cried out then, so much more loudly than before. She fisted her fingers into his hair, and as he suckled at her breast, she did it. She screamed. Her lord and master pushed aside the crotch of her knickers and pressed his fingers against the folds beneath. He curled up half his mouth at her when he felt the dewy warmth there, and he said in a taunting voice,

"She's as soaked as if she's gone for a swim. My, but she wants it badly, doesn't she?"

"I want you. I want you. I want you.." She nodded desperately, feeling his fingers pulsing against her, gliding along her entrance and fiddling with her clit until her head tipped back and her palms pressed mindlessly against his chest. That chest began to heave as Voldemort grew more and more excited. Everything came alive within Bellatrix, and her ears were ringing and her veins were on fire when she heard Voldemort ask hoarsely,

"Are you going to come, Bella?"

"Mmm-hmm." Bellatrix nodded and answered like a madwoman, her head falling forward. Impulsively and helplessly. Wet heat drenched his hand then as her walls contracted, as pleasure washed over her like a mighty ocean wave. He kissed her hard through it, his tongue swirling with his, and she squealed loudly into his mouth. She was not quiet. She was not quick. She was not discreet.

When it had passed, she whispered against Voldemort's lips,

"I want to help you come. I want to make you come."

"You already did."

Voldemort glanced down and smirked at the damp spot on his trousers where Bellatrix had been grinding. She stared in awe at the wet spot and murmured,

"Even with the Chastity Potion…?"

"Yes, even with the Chastity Potion, I've finished in my trousers like some damned fifteen-year-old boy," Voldemort huffed. He laughed a little and used his clean left hand to hold Bellatrix's face. "The things you do to me."

Bellatrix looked around the gardens as she got dressed again.

"This is an  _awfully_  big house," she noted, and Voldemort turned up his lips.

"It is a palace suited for the Dark Lord."

"I thought you were a cultural representative with a high public profile," Bellatrix teased, for that was the answer they were going to give to Ramos in Mexico. Voldemort scoffed and shook his head a little.

"You think he'll believe that for even a moment? In any case, I'd like to have a housewarming ball to celebrate my new residence."

Bellatrix frowned. "Before Morganna's well enough to come home?"

Voldemort scowled and snatched his wand off the table. "Bellatrix. I am the Dark Lord whether Morganna is ill or not. She is our ward, but our lives do not revolve around her. I will be hosting a ball to celebrate  _me_ , to celebrate  _my_  new residence, a residence that finally is fitting of the Dark Lord, who will no longer be seen in meetings at Malfoy Manor. This ball is not dependant on Morganna's health. Understood?"

Bellatrix shrank away a little, but she nodded. He was her master. She must always obey. "Yes, My Lord."

"Now." He rose, having cleaned himself up, "If you'll excuse me, I have to get to the Ministry."

"The Ministry?" Bellatrix fretted. "Something wrong, Master?"

"Some Mudblood rebel called Thomas Bankey accidentally broke the Taboo whilst hiding in Wales. He's going to be executed - not publicly; we can't lug them all out in public every time - but, in any case, I'd like to do it myself."

Bellatrix let out a shaking sigh, and Voldemort tipped his head.

"You'd like to do it?"

She shrugged. "Been a while since a good battle or anything, Master."

He gave her a wicked sort of a smile and nodded. "Yes, all right. Come with me. I'll let you take him out. Let's go. Yaxley's waiting."

**Author's Note: So Tarsney House definitely sounds like a manor fit for the Dark Lord. But if they're hosting grand parties to honor the "cultural representative with a high public profile," word might get to Mexico, no? And what will Ramos think of these Taboo executions? This should be an interesting trip to Mexico. Eek. Coming up, we'll see the housewarming ball, Morganna's return home, and then… yes, the trip to Mexico. Thank you as always for reading and a huge, huge, huge thank you for feedback.**


	13. There Was A Star Danced

"Oh, I can hardly move, Master!"

Voldemort frowned from where he was finishing up the cuffs of his tuxedo robes in his dressing room. He stared into his elegant full-length mirror, thought he looked rather put together, and stalked out across the corridor toward Bellatrix's dressing area.

"What's the problem?" he called.

"I've got… four… petticoats on," she puffed, sounding profoundly out of breath. Voldemort frowned and walked into her dressing room and found her standing with a strapless undergarment on and a stack of enormous poufy petticoats, along with high-heeled black shoes. Her hair had been styled into an elegant pile of curls atop her head lined with criss-crossed braids, and she'd put on her obscene diamond choker which Voldemort had bought for her. She was a glistening, but incomplete, masterpiece.

"Where's your gown? Let me help you," Voldemort smiled, and Bellatrix sounded wheezy as she jabbed a finger to the wall beside him, where a voluminous off-the-shoulder black silk gown was hanging. It was a beautiful confection, he thought. She would look lovely in it. But this all seemed like quite a lot of effort. Voldemort used his wand to guide it up and over Bellatrix's head so that her hair and careful makeup wouldn't get mussed, and then he gasped as she arranged it and did up the back fastenings with her own wand.

She was marvelous. She took his breath away, with her gown sitting low on her shoulders and revealing her angry flush of diamonds cascading from her neck. She made his heart race, with her full, voluminous skirts of black silk. She was a vision in darkness, her lips painted plum, her eyes made up heavily. She was absolutely striking.

"You," Voldemort said, approaching her, "are the most beautiful witch who's ever lived. Ever."

She smirked up at him and put her hands to his chest as she murmured,

"I looked like a child in my first wedding gown, I'm sure."

"That was a long time ago," Voldemort reminded her. "Seven years ago. Things have changed."

Bellatrix looked around her luxurious dressing room inside of their palatial home. She nodded.

"Things have changed. We should go downstairs, Master; the guests will be arriving."

* * *

"My Lady!" Opal Rowle Mulciber curtsied low in her elegant burnt orange dress robes, and she whispered, "How striking you look this evening."

"Thanks, Opal." Bellatrix sipped at her red wine. She and Opal had been friends at Hogwarts, but, again, everything had changed since then. She sighed and asked, "How are things?"

"My husband Hugo's finally been named a Death Eater," Opal said proudly, and then her face sank and she said quickly, "I don't mean… I didn't mean  _finally_. I meant… didn't mean to complain."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "You needn't walk on eggshells with me, Opal," she lied. "Hugo spilled the beans to the Dark Lord. You're expecting?"

Opal's cheeks coloured, and she huffed, "Now about this I can say,  _finally_. At long last. It's been three years of crying and trying, as my mother's put it. It's still early on, but if it's a boy, we're going to call him Mathias."

She touched at her lower abdomen and smiled a little, and Bellatrix felt a pit in her own stomach. She nodded and forced a smile.

"Congratulations, Opal," she said. But then Opal asked cautiously,

"Will you and he… you and the Dark Lord…?"

"Will we ever have children?" Bellatrix whirled around and stared at where Voldemort was talking, surrounded by a dozen hangers-on in the centre of the enormous, green marble ballroom. Bellatrix shook her head almost violently.

"No. I could never bear a child. Besides, we have Morganna."

"Ah, yes. The Lady Morganna." Opal's face lit up. "How is she doing?"

"Better than anyone could have possibly expected," Bellatrix said very honestly. Opal had a strange look on her face then, so Bellatrix sipped her wine and asked, "What is it?"

"There are rumours, My Lady," Opal said quietly. "You ought to know… ought to know that there are rumours about The Lady Morganna."

"What sort of rumours?" Bellatrix snapped, and Opal shied away a little. She cleared her throat and said cautiously,

"People say that she's freakishly powerful. Powerful beyond measure."

Bellatrix turned and glared at Lucius Malfoy, who was standing with Narcissa chatting with Druella Black and Abraxas Malfoy. She huffed. Would Lucius be stupid enough to go talking to people about how strong Morganna was? Yes, of course he was that stupid. She licked her lip, feeling dry, Enchanted lipstick beneath her tongue, and she told Opal,

"Thank you for informing me. Now. Please. Go enjoy this ball."

* * *

"Master, I didn't want to tell you this at the ball, but I received the Inter-Ministerial Memo just today," said Corban Yaxley once he finally managed to pull Lord Voldemort aside privately. Voldemort sipped at his own tumbler of firewhiskey, listening to the orchestra play at the other end of the ballroom. He moved away from the food table - loaded with oysters, stuffed mushrooms, roast miniature potatoes, and more - and brought Yaxley with him, going to a quieter, more private place over by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"What's going on?" Voldemort asked in a clip. Yaxley hesitated for just a moment, so Voldemort threatened him,

"We can do this with Legilimency, or you can do your job as my Minister and report to me what was in the memo. Out with it."

"Y-Yes, Master." Yaxley took a shaking breath. He swigged down the rest of his own firewhiskey and said, "Minister Ramos wrote from Mexico. He was not at all pleased to receive word of the public executions for breaking the Taboo. He can't understand why there would be a Taboo placed on your name with the death penalty attached as punishment. He claims to be both angry and confused by the actions of our government, and says he can not wait until Christmas to meet with you. Either you go to Mexico at the end of November for a summit, a month earlier than planned, or he will immediately move forward with sanctions and international partnerships against Britain."

Yaxley's drink refilled itself, and he took another big swig. Voldemort gritted his teeth and nodded to Yaxley.

"I'll write back myself tomorrow morning. Thank you."

He shoved his drink into Yaxley's hands and walked away quickly, heading straight for where Bellatrix was chatting with Calla, her old friend.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, barging into the conversation as Calla dipped into a reverential curtsy, "but I simply must have a dance with my Lady right now."

"Now, Master?" She seemed sceptical. Voldemort raised his brows and nodded.

"Now."

"Right. See you, Calla," Bellatrix said, taking Voldemort's hand. He remembered that party where he'd made the girls jealous. Were they jealous now, watching him lead Bellatrix in her diamonds and full black silk skirts out to the dance floor? Or did they just see an old man?

No. They saw the Dark Lord. Their Master. He knew that was true.

"What's going on, My Lord?" Bellatrix hissed, and as he drew her into a dancing stance, he just took a moment to admire her. She sparkled from all the diamonds. She was shapely from her perfectly fitted gown. She curved just so. Her face was made up beautifully. Her hair was lovely. It occurred to him that he could take her somewhere else in this giant manor and fuck her and she could scream and no one would hear. Their bedroom…

"Master? What's wrong?" Bellatrix asked fretfully as they began to move to the waltz. Voldemort cleared his throat and said,

"Ramos is extremely unhappy about the public executions. About the Taboo on my name. He wants an explanation, in person, a month earlier than planned, or else he'll move forward with sanctions."

"A month earlier than planned?" Bellatrix looked horrified. "Morganna won't be ready to -"

"Morganna may not be able to come," Voldemort snapped, but Bellatrix's eyes watered, and she reminded him,

"You promised she'd be with us."

"We'll bring her if she's able," Voldemort sighed. "Having our ward - our niece, whom we have essentially adopted - there with us would serve as a humanising distraction, yes. So I want her there. But we also have to be careful of her health, Bellatrix. She must be strong enough to travel multiple Portkeys across an ocean and continents."

"If she can come, she will come," Bellatrix said in a conciliatory voice. She stopped dancing for a moment, let out a shaking sigh, and shut her eyes. " _Why do you feel the need to put people to death just for speaking your name?"_

Voldemort was silent. She was posing the question he'd be asked in Mexico. There was only one problem.

"I don't have a good answer for him," Voldemort gulped, and Bellatrix opened her eyes as she whispered,

"Well, Master, you're going to need one. Let's keep dancing before anyone realises anything's wrong. One, two, three. One, two, three."

**Author's Note: Oh, man. He's in deep trouble in Mexico. In the next chapter, we're definitely going to see a bit of a time leap (about three weeks) so that we're just before the Mexico trip. Stuff is getting real, y'all! Thanks for reading. Please do review if you get a quick moment.**


	14. A Killing Frost

"Right. Well, Morganna, say goodbye to Mummy and Daddy."

"Goodbye, Mummy. Goodbye, Daddy." Morganna walked with slow, unsteady steps across the coral-coloured parlour at Tarnsey House and gave a half-hearted embrace to Narcissa, then to Lucius. Each of her parents looked profoundly concerned, and Lucius dared to question,

"Do you really think she's well enough, Master? She's only been walking for two weeks, and her steps are still unsure."

"Her magic is strong and powerful, and that's what counts," Voldemort said. "I told you that when she began to heal, she was ours, and she would be with us."

Morganna smirked a little at that, gripping the black stone ring round her neck. She had the Elder Wand in a holster at her waist, and it looked enormous on her tiny form. But she whispered,

"I do love you, Mummy. Daddy. Goodbye."

"Please be safe in Mexico, Bella. My Lady." Narcissa shut her eyes as she corrected herself, folding her hands before her and looking very frightened. Her face was even more pale than usual. "Please be careful. All of you. We want you back safely. All of you."

"This is a simple diplomatic mission, Narcissa," Voldemort said lightly. "There is no danger involved. We are not going into battle; those days are past. Those days are behind us. We are going into conversation. Just as frightening in some ways, but -"

"Why must Morganna be present at these conversations?" Lucius interrupted, and Narcissa gripped his arm for that transgression. Voldemort let it slide, and Bellatrix watched as his face hardened.

"Because," he said harshly, "she is our gifted niece and will make for fine conversation herself. A welcome distraction from talks of how allegedly cruel and barbaric I and my government are."

"So she is a pawn?" Lucius challenged, and Voldemort tossed his hand through the air, sending Lucius flying with a nonverbal, wandless Knockback Jinx. Lucius scrambled to his feet, bowed his head, and began mumbling apologies.

"Why did I have to do that, Morganna?" Voldemort asked, and Morganna said quietly,

"Because Daddy didn't behave, My Lord."

"No. Your daddy did not behave," Voldemort said. "Tell him goodbye, that you'll see him soon."

Morganna gave her father a hard, cold stare. "See you soon, Father."

_Father_. Bellatrix felt a chill go up her spine. Somehow, despite her steps being unsure and there being a tremble in her hands, Morganna seemed stronger than ever in her healing. Bellatrix picked up the Expanded suitcase they were bringing, a monogrammed leather bag that would be their sole piece of luggage. Inside were weeks' worth of clothes for her, Morganna, and Lord Voldemort, along with toiletries and shoes and toys for Morganna. Everything they could need was inside that suitcase and then some. It would be far easier to travel by multiple Portkey with just the one bag, and Voldemort had agreed to hold fast to Morganna to be sure she didn't accidentally let go early.

"Our first one's to New York," he reminded Narcissa and Lucius. "Then to San Antonio, Texas. Then to Oaxaca, Mexico. It'll take us a while to get there. We've all been dosed with Nonemesis Draught for the Portkey sickness. She'll be fine. She's in good hands."

"Of course she is, Master." Narcissa tipped her head up. "Safe travels."

"Goodbye, Cissy." Bellatrix walked over to the table in the centre of the room, where a candle had been made into a Portkey and was waiting. Voldemort picked up Morganna and put her on his hip, and she held onto him tightly. He walked over to the table, eyed Bellatrix, who gripped the suitcase, and asked,

"Ready?"

"Ready, My Lord," she nodded, though she did not feel at all ready. She'd dressed for her arrival at Minister Ramos' villa, wearing a long black skirt and a caped linen blouse belted with a thick belt. Voldemort was in lightweight formal black robes. Morganna was in a short-sleeved black silk dress. They were dark, but ready for the warm weather. Now Bellatrix's heart sped up and her breath accelerated in her burning lungs as she reached in unison with Voldemort for the Portkey.

"Hold on tightly, Morganna," he commanded, and Morganna gripped more tightly than ever round Voldemort's waist and shoulders. She glanced back at Narcissa and Lucius, her silver braid falling over her shoulder. Then they all were whisked away by the Portkey, sucked into a great whirling nothing, spinning, falling, flying, careening. Morganna screamed like mad, and Voldemort called out to her,

"Hold on tightly!"

It seemed to take forever, so much longer than a Portkey within Britain, though it probably only took ten seconds. But by the time they released and landed with an  _oof_ on the wet pavement of a rainy New York City, Bellatrix was so dizzy and sick that she could hardly stand. She scrambled up to her feet, assisted by Voldemort, who gently set Morganna down.

Bellatrix looked round to see the psychotic sort of skyline the Muggles had built in Manhattan, which was across from a bridge from where they stood just now. There was a food stand nearby, and a Muggle was shouting at people to buy his wares. Someone else went whizzing by in a much larger automobile than the sort they saw in Britain.

"So this is America?" Morganna marveled. "It's so different. So… enormous."

"Don't get used to it; we aren't staying. Besides, New York city is a disgusting hive of everything wrong with the world, both wizarding and Muggle," complained Voldemort. Morganna just nodded. Everything Voldemort said was true to her, so she just nodded. Voldemort reached for a newspaper that had been discarded nearby, and a rat went scurrying out from under it. Bellatrix curled her nose up. The three of them made an escape into a nearby alley, and Voldemort began performing the necessary spells to transform the newspaper into a Portkey.

The trip to San Antonio was just as dizzying and nauseating as the one from England to New York had been. The distance seemed just as far. When they landed, it was blisteringly hot. They stood on a desolate street corner in a city called San Antonio, and Voldemort used something he informed them was a  _soda can_  to make the last Portkey. This one would go directly to Ramos' villa in Oaxaca, and it made Bellatrix more nervous than either of the Portkeys that had come before. This was it. They were going to land in hostile territory, outside the home of the man who wanted to place sanctions on their country because of the actions of her husband.

She felt so sick when they landed in Oaxaca that she rushed to place a Nonemesis Charm upon herself. It was only when she looked up that she realised they were far outside of town. They were among forested mountains, and Bellatrix could hear all manner of tropical birds about them. She stared up at the enormous white plaster building with its red tiled roof, and her breath caught just a little.

"Ready?" Voldemort asked, and he took Morganna's hand, which seemed to be a very deliberate move. They had not informed Ramos that they would be bringing their niece. Bellatrix nodded silently, and she followed her lord and master up to the front door of the villa.

Painted on a tile sign above the door read, " _In cuitlapilli, In atlapalli - Somos La Puebla._ " Bellatrix frowned at Voldemort, and he cleared his throat as he said softly,

"An ode to the common people."

Bellatrix felt her stomach sink. She raised her shaking fist and knocked very firmly on the beautiful wooden doors, five times, using the wrought iron knocker. The door opened, and a rather happy-looking House-Elf stood there smiling.

" _Bienvenidos._ Welcome Villa de la Puebla. You come inside?"

"Thank you very kindly," said Voldemort tightly, and Bellatrix remembered that he would not sound anything like himself during this summit. The House-Elf offered,

"I take bag, I put in rooms set for you?"

"Oh. Erm… yes. Thank you." Bellatrix handed over the Expanded suitcase. They'd been careful not to bring any valuables. Everything of worth was on their person.

"Lord Voldemort and the Lady Bellatrix!" Bellowed a loud voice, and suddenly a handsome, tall, mustachioed wizard appeared in the foyer of the lovely villa. His voice echoed off the white marble lining the place. Behind him stood an elegant witch in red robes, and she immediately bowed her head and said in heavily accented English,

"I am Imelda Ramos. What an honour it is to make your acquaintance."

"Imelda is local, from here in Oaxaca," said Minister Ramos lightly. "She was born to… how you say,  _Muggles_ … here in Oaxaca. She'll be so glad to show you the city."

Bellatrix's stomach flopped. She saw spots. Imelda Ramos was Muggle-born? Oh, no.

"And who is this lovely little flower?" asked Imelda, and now Bellatrix could see that her smile was painted right on. Voldemort's voice was tighter than ever as he introduced his ward.

"This is our niece, Morganna. She is profoundly gifted in magic, but has recently been ill, and we care for her, so we did not want to be away from her during her time of healing. We hope you understand…"

"Oh, of course. What wondrous fortune to have her here. And she's got a wand!" Ramos seemed almost amused. "I hope she is feeling much better."

"I blew up a tree, and it fell on me and crushed my spine and legs. They said I'd never walk again, but my magic is much too strong for that nonsense," said Morganna. Imelda and Fernando Ramos were silent in shock for a long moment, until at last Imelda laughed awkwardly and said,

"Well, my sweet, we are just glad you are healed now. Shall we have a tour of the villa? Let's let your uncle and my husband talk for a moment, hm? Madam Bellatrix, if you would like to come with us?"

"Yes, all right," Bellatrix said blandly, feeling dread course through her veins. And she was right to be worried, as it turned out. The moment she started to walk away with Imelda and Morganna, she heard Fernando Ramos, still standing in the foyer of the villa, ask her husband,

"So, Lord Voldemort. Tell me, why are you murdering people for saying your name?"

**Author's Note: Oh, my. This summit could go very badly. Any chance of saving this disaster? Thanks as always for reading, and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE take a quick moment to leave a review. Thank you!**


	15. Strong Reasons Make Strong Actions

"So, Lord Voldemort. Tell me, why are you murdering people for saying your name?"

Voldemort scoffed. No. He laughed. He waved his hand dismissively.

"Murdering people," he repeated, though his heart sped up. "No, Minister Ramos. We haven't murdered anyone. The Taboo on my name was placed because only armed, dangerous rebels against our government were using it, and they were using it in hiding whilst planning attacks on our Ministry. We decided to make the name a tracking device, and we gave the public plenty of warning about the Taboo and the punishment for speaking the name."

"Yes.  _Speak his name and die,_  is what I understand was shouted by your wife in the Atrium, and what was chanted by the crowd, just after you executed three Muggle-born prisoners." Ramos folded his hands in front of his body and tipped his head. Voldemort chewed his lip.

"That was meant as a warning," he said, "to protect innocent people from being hurt or killed for breaking the Taboo that the rebels had broken. Your own government deals with rebels, too."

"Yes, rebels who smuggle illegal products and wish to see their sentences erased," Ramos snapped. "That's a little different, isn't it? Dealing with criminal cartels and dealing with Muggle-borns?"

Voldemort sighed and said calmly, "In our unique culture, Minister Ramos, protecting Magical culture is a delicate balance. It is not an easy balance to strike. We are not saying that anyone is a lesser human based on their birth. We are merely trying to protect our culture."

"Is that all?" Ramos sounded incredulous.

" _Fernando, mira! ¡Mira lo que este niña puede hacer! ¡Estoy asombrada!_ " The voice of Imelda Ramos called from out back, out in the rear of the villa, and Fernando Ramos narrowed his eyes as he said to Voldemort,

"It seems your little niece has captivated my wife. Let us go see, hmm?"

He turned and walked quickly, his steps brisk and long as his lightweight robes billowed behind him. Voldemort followed, down a narrow marble corridor and out past a dining room that was mostly outdoors. There was a large patio out back, surrounded by beautiful fountains and backed by the lush mountains, and Voldemort saw Morganna standing in the centre of the patio, holding the Elder Wand, whilst Bellatrix stood on the outside with Imelda.

"Look at what this little child can do!" Imelda repeated in English, sounding absolutely amazed.

"Will you do it again, Morganna?" asked Bellatrix, and Morganna smirked as she nodded. She waved the Elder Wand in the air and Conjured an absolutely beautiful, large red rose out of thin air. It materialised slowly, perfectly. And then Morganna whispered,

" _Draconifors._ "

Voldemort frowned. Had he ever taught her that incantation? How did she know it? Perhaps Bellatrix had taught it to her. In any case, the red rose Transfigured into a violent pink dragon. It roared and sprayed fire into the air, but it was much less vicious than a larger, real dragon. Morganna turned the dragon's face to look at Voldemort and Ramos, and Voldemort realised that she had something now she'd been lacking before. Control. She had control. He sighed and nodded at her, and then she Vanished her dragon.

" _Increíble,_ " breathed Ramos, and when he turned to Voldemort, he asked him, "She is how old?"

"Five years old," Voldemort said proudly. "Raised and trained by the Lady Bellatrix and myself. But preternaturally gifted. She is the daughter of Bellatrix's sister."

"Is she representative of normal children in wizarding Britain?" asked Imelda, and Bellatrix cut in,

"She is gifted beyond measure. But we hope that she is proof that the skill levels we've been expecting of our young witches and wizards is far too low. We can train so much more power into them. Morganna is proof that a five-year-old can wield a wand and do it with control. She is proof that a five-year-old can handle incantations."

"But she is a genius, clearly," Ramos protested, and suddenly Morganna spoke, her voice clear and calm in an almost strange, otherworldly way.

"I want you to know something, Minister Ramos."

Ramos looked slightly bothered by how the child had spoken, but he just nodded, and Morganna spun the Elder Wand in her hand. She aimed it at the nearest fountain, changed the water to be pink, then yellow, then blue, then purple, then back to clear, and she turned her face to Ramos. She sighed.

"In my country, no one is hated. Everyone is beloved. That is why we have our laws. Because it is very important to protect our people. We were in danger for so long. For so, so long. I can see it in your mind - you do not trust my aunt and uncle. You think they hate people. But they don't hate anybody. We were in danger. They are only trying to protect us."

"She is a Legilimens?" Ramos whirled on Voldemort, and VOldemort shrugged as he said very lightly,

"As am I."

"But she is  _five_." Ramos' eyes watered with fear. He chewed his lip, and Morganna turned to Bellatrix.

"Would there really be war, Aunt Bella? If they made it so people couldn't buy or sell things, and if they made it so that people couldn't visit our country, would there really be a war? I don't want a war, do you?"

"No, Morganna. I don't want a war," Bellatrix said, reaching for Morganna's hand and pulling her closer.

"I think we've had enough serious talk," said Imelda, rising and looking profoundly affected as she and her husband had their minds examined by a five-year-old. "How about dinner? You must be famished."

* * *

"I want her on the ground in here with us," Voldemort said firmly, dragging the mattress from one room into another with his wand. "I told you she'd be with us, and she will. I don't trust anyone in this villa to have her separated from us."

"I could protect myself, My Lord," Morganna protested, and Voldemort scoffed gently.

"Yes, I'm sure you could. Let's not take that chance, Morganna." He left the room whilst Bellatrix got Morganna into her nightgown, and he cleaned his teeth in the clean white bathroom. He put on black flannel pyjamas from the suitcase, and as he climbed into bed and Bellatrix got Morganna settled on the mattress on the ground, he shut the door and murmured to Bellatrix,

"He asked me about the classes of Purebloods. About wand confiscation from Mudbloods. About the word  _Mudblood._  I gave him all the answers we practised.  _We must protect the ancient histories of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Wand confiscation is the only way to permanently sever the Muggle and Magical worlds in our culture. People will always use derogatory language, but the Ministry uses the term Muggle-born._ "

"And what did he say to all of that?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort shrugged as they lay down and stared at the ceiling. He studied the tile design up on the ceiling and sighed.

"He seems to…  _understand._  He does not agree. He believes we are wrong for having these policies. But I think I am beginning to sway him away from such extreme measures as sanctions and travel restrictions."

"He fears there would be war," Bellatrix whispered back. "Morganna saw it in his mind. He fears that if he gets America and Canada to agree to these restrictions, you'll gather your allies - Russia and Bulgaria and Poland and the others - and declare war. He fears a global wizarding world war the likes of what the Muggles had in the 1910s and 1940s. Morganna saw it in his thoughts."

"It's true; I did!" called a thin little voice from the mattress. Voldemort mumbled quietly,

"Come here, Morganna."

There was rustling then as Morganna got up from her mattress and padded across the cool tile floor. She appeared beside Bellatrix's and Voldemort's bed, and Voldemort asked her gravely,

"Was he afraid of the idea of war? Did the idea of it make him -"

"He knew you could read thoughts, and so he was careful around you," Morganna said. "But he didn't expect it of me. He doesn't agree with anything you do or say, but he is afraid of you. Very afraid of you. He thinks he must not show how afraid he is, or he won't have something his mind was calling  _leverage._ "

Voldemort turned to look at Bellatrix, who raised her eyebrows.

"He's afraid that if there is a war, you'll lose, because America will join in and make them win. But he's afraid of how many people will die, and he doesn't want that."

"I see. Thank you, Morganna," Voldemort said, cupping her cheek. "Go lie down and get some sleep. You've been very helpful, creature."

* * *

"Let us be frank with one another," said Voldemort the next morning at a private breakfast with Ramos. He ignored his eggs and spicy sausage and stared across the table at the Mexican Minister. Ramos nodded.

"I do not think your prodigious little niece has left us much choice but to be frank with one another, Lord Voldemort."

Voldemort drummed his fingers on the table and studied the wood grain. "Russia, Poland, Bulgaria, Cuba, Argentina, China…"

"Your allies." Ramos' voice was quite grave then. "The ones who would join you in a war if we begin imposing sanctions and restrictions against countries who implement policies like yours."

Voldemort was silent for a long moment, until he shook his head and said, "A war between Canada, America, Mexico, Australia, and Brazil and then my allies… think of the uncountable dead. So many dead, Minister Ramos. All over a philosophical, political disagreement. Is that what you want?"

"You will not be shaken?" Ramos huffed a sigh. "These sanctions will not sway you to return your Ministry policies to the way they once were, the way they were several years ago, before discrimination against Muggle-borns began?"

"I'm sorry; just to correct… before protection of Magical culture began." Voldemort raised his eyes to Ramos and gave him a cold hard stare. "No. I will not be swayed, and neither will Minister Yaxley."

Ramos pinched his lips and shook his head helplessly. "You are a dictator," he whispered, "and you command your victims in horrifying ways. But I am not sure how to stop you."

"You, Minister Ramos, will never stop me." Voldemort leaned forward, pushing aside his eggs and chorizo. He thought of Morganna, who had the gifted obsidian, the Elder Wand. She needed the Cloak, he thought suddenly. He gulped and said to Ramos, "You will never stop me. Nothing… no one… will ever stop me now. We are going home, and I am reporting to my Ministry that the Mexican Minister has seen reason and will leave us alone, that the Mexican Ministry will make no attempt to place sanctions, restrictions, or other punitive measures against us. And I'll be correct in reporting this, won't I? Minister Ramos?"

Ramos slumped in his seat a little, looking defeated. He shut his eyes, touched at his forehead, and very obviously thought of the massive war that would be prevented if he would just let all of this go. All because his thoughts had been given away by a five-year-old Legilimens. Ramos licked his bottom lip and whispered,

"Thank you for taking the time and effort to visit us here in Oaxaca, Lord Voldemort. Perhaps in future we can meet again to discuss these issues and make more progress."

"Yes, perhaps. Thanks for the eggs." Voldemort rose from his untouched breakfast and stalked out of the room, calling, "Bella! Morganna! Come now; we're going home."

**Author's Note: Morganna saves the day! So, he's decided that she needs the Invisibility Cloak. What happens when she has all three Hallows? Also, remember that Bellatrix had a vision of a slightly older Morganna in battle… will Morganna get some more duel training now that she's well and more powerful than ever? Hmmm… thanks as always for reading and reviewing!**


	16. More Perfect In The Use Of Arms

"It feels like there should be some sort of celebration," Bellatrix noted as she came walking out of her bathroom, her curls damp. She was wearing a black terry cloth robe, and she meandered through her dressing room as Voldemort came out of his own bathroom in his own wrapped towel. They'd come back from Mexico today, gotten Morganna settled into her nursery after dinner, and had come back to their chambers to take long, hot showers.

"A celebration?" Voldemort scoffed. Bellatrix approached him, walking into his deep brown dressing room, and she joked,

"A ball to celebrate the fact that the Dark Lord avoided global wizarding war by averting diplomatic catastrophe."

"Yes, I think these things tend to stay secret for a reason," Voldemort reminded her, threading his fingers through her hair. She leaned up toward him, and he bent down to lightly kiss her lips. She whispered against his mouth, feeling a tingle inside of her,

"I think the Dark Lord at least needs a reward for his adept diplomatic activities."

"Do I?" He smirked, and Bellatrix flicked her fingers at the towel around his waist, letting it fall to the ground and pool there. She stared up at him and asked seriously,

"If I use my mouth on you, Master, will you come, or will the Chastity Serum…?"

"Mmm… if you use your mouth on me," he whispered, his fingers tightening in her hair, "I'll come."

"Good." She descended to her knees then, dragging her fingernails slowly down his chest and then over his stomach. She caressed his hips, squeezing at his buttocks, and she moaned quietly against the hardening flesh of his cock as she watched it come alive. She kissed it lightly, feeling it burgeoning beneath her lips. She kept her mouth there, planted against his shaft as the tumescence took over. Soon enough he was completely firm, and she wrapped a hand around the base of his shaft. Her other hand toyed with his balls, playing carefully with them, feeling the ovals within the sac of skin. She kissed him there, too, and then she brought her tongue to the very, very base of his shaft.

She dragged the tongue, flat and wet, along his length, all the way to the tip. When she reached the tip, Voldemort's fingers tightened even further in her hair, and she curled her mouth over the end of him and suckled. She sucked hard then, dragging him down into her mouth, down her throat. She kept him buried for a long, long moment, just swallowing his mass, and Voldemort groaned.

"You are going to wind up with a mouthful of it," he whispered, his breath quick and his bare chest rising and falling swiftly. Bellatrix smirked onto him and pumped her hand and mouth in unison. Up and down, up and down, up and down. She sucked hard again, bringing him all the way down into her throat, and suddenly Voldemort snarled through his teeth,

"Going to come. Going to come  _now_."

Bellatrix abruptly tasted metal, bitter metal, and she wrenched her eyes shut past the awful flavour. She gulped it down, the horridly bitter come, and soon enough she'd swallowed it all. She pulled her mouth off of Voldemort's cock, saliva drooling from her swollen lips, and she whispered,

"Oh, my."

"Oh, my, indeed," Voldemort huffed. He helped Bellatrix stand, and he Wandlessly Scoured her mouth and Conjured a candy for her to suck on for the taste. She leaned against his bare chest then, and he murmured,

"Thank you, My Lady, for that celebration of our diplomatic victory."

* * *

"The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office is busier than ever, My Lord. My Lady," said Minister Yaxley in Voldemort's massive office at Tarnsey House. "Now that all objects procured directly from Muggles have been outlawed, there are raids left and right. I do have a suggestion to ease the burden on the Office."

"What sort of suggestion is that?" Voldemort asked, and Yaxley said,

"A five-Galleon reward for turning in any Muggle-procured item. No questions asked."

"But won't people just go procure an item from Muggles and then turn it in to get the reward?" Bellatrix asked disbelievingly, and Yaxley opened his mouth, looked like a fish, and shut his mouth.

"You're quite right, My Lady; it's a foolish idea."

"Come up with something better," Voldemort sighed. "What's the situation with the rebels?"

"We have no further tracking on any of them," Yaxley admitted. "I'm sure there are more out there, but we don't know where any of them are. Master."

"Wonderful meeting today, Yaxley," Voldemort said sarcastically. "Dismissed."

"Apologies, Master. My Lady." Yaxley stood and bowed low, and then he walked very quickly out of the office. Once he'd gone, Bellatrix asked,

"I'm not wrong, am I? People would just abuse a reward scheme like that."

"Of course you're not wrong; it's an idiotic notion," Voldemort snapped. "Go get Morganna, will you? I have to give her something."

Bellatrix's lips parted. She knew the prophecy just as well as Voldemort. Gifted obsidian. Tiny fingers clasped around elder. Silver hair hidden beneath a cloak of false velvet.

"You're giving her the Potters' Invisibility Cloak?" Bellatrix asked. "Master. She could use it to disappear from us at any moment in this enormous house. It seems so dangerous. So dangerous to have her be able to vanish like that at will, with an Invisibility Cloak. Are you certain she's ready?"

"Bella." Voldemort touched at his forehead. "I didn't think she was ready for my ring, nor for the wand. But your vision of her showed her in battle, and she was how old?"

Bellatrix shut her eyes. "Not much older than she is now, Master."

He nodded. "I want her to have all three before then. Those rebels may be in hiding now, but they'll come out eventually. And whilst this place is as Unplottable as Hogwarts, people find Hogwarts. People can find this place, too. I think back to vision you had, and the grounds here seem to be where the battle was taking place. I want Morganna to have the ring, the wand, and the cloak. All three."

"I understand." Bellatrix nodded and went to go fetch Morganna, who was playing in the parlour down the corridor. She brought the girl back into the office, and Morganna curtsied to her uncle, her lord and master, in her pretty little black dress.

"Morganna," said Voldemort, shutting the door with wandless magic, "you saved our hides in Mexico with your Legilimency. Your ability to see inside minds. Your magic is strong. Your magic is powerful. And soon enough I will ask you to fight for me in battle. Will you be ready?"

Morganna turned to look at Bellatrix, and she said quietly,

"You've let your mind open, Aunt Bella, and you're afraid."

Bellatrix realised her Occlumency shields had been down, and she let out a shaking sigh. She nodded.

"I want you to stay safe, Morganna, and so does the Dark Lord."

"How will you keep me safe?" Morganna asked, and Voldemort opened a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a burgundy velvet blanket-type cloak. It moved like liquid. He rose and walked around his desk, and he asked Morganna,

"How does one become invisible?"

She frowned. "You can't. It's impossible."

"Is it?" He suddenly whirled the cloak around himself and covered himself, and he vanished into thin air. Morganna's eyes went wide as saucers, and she gasped,

"That's the Invisibility Cloak that the Three Brothers had! In the story! Isn't it?"

Voldemort pulled off the cloak and handed it to Morganna. She put it around her shoulders so that her head was floating in midair, and she laughed gleefully when she looked down at herself.

"This is not a toy, Morganna. You saw what happened to the Brother in the story," Voldemort snarled, his voice angry. "This is not a toy. This is a weapon. Do you understand me? You have been given three weapons."

"Three weapons." Morganna repeated the words and pulled the cloak off. She folded it neatly, holding the burgundy cloak in her arms. She glanced down to where the Elder Wand was in its holster at her hip. And she looked to where Voldemort's Horcrux was dangling around her neck. She raised her eyes, looking abruptly emotional, and she asked in a frightened sort of voice, "Am I the Master of Death?"

"You are a prophesied child," Bellatrix informed Morganna. "Seers told us that you would come. Seers told us that you would wield these three weapons. And there were visions, Morganna. There was a period of my life - a period which has mostly passed - where I had visions of the future. And i saw you. I saw you fighting. The Dark Lord had a prophecy about you, about you bearing these three objects. And so we raised you. He gave you the Hallows from the story. Because… because…"

"Because I am a prophesied child?" Morganna looked like she was going to cry. She looked from Voldemort to Bellatrix and fretted, "Am I everything the prophecy promised?"

Voldemort put his hands on Morganna's cheeks and crouched down, giving her a very serious look.

"You are more, silver-haired creature," he said, "than any prophecy could have ever promised. Now take these Hallows and use them well. Prophesied child. Master of Death."

**Author's Note: Anyone smell a battle coming? If you do, you probably have a really good sense of smell. Mwah hahaha. We are nearing the end of this story (and thus this trilogy) so buckle up… this climax is going to be a bumpy ride.**


	17. Advance, My Fellows

**Author's Note: I warned you we were getting close to the end of the story…. Well… here it is.**

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear M'Lord. Happy birthday to you."

Morganna sat at the family dining table, the only one singing as Bellatrix let her have the solo. Bellatrix applauded wildly and noted,

"She sings, too! Blow out your candles, Master! Make a wish!"

Voldemort stared at his chocolate fudge cake with its forty-nine thin burning candles. They'd decided that his actual birthday would be a private celebration. The Dark Lord's age was not something to be publicly pondered. Instead, they celebrated Victory Day, which was the day Bellatrix and Voldemort had killed Dumbledore and the day Voldemort's ascent to power had begun, as well as Ministry Day, which was the day that Yaxley had become Minister of Magic and had begun initiating all the pro-Voldemort policies that were now in place. But the thirty-first of December was not a day for massive celebrations. This was a day to sit at his dining room table after a meal of mussels and pork chops and stare at a cake full of candles.

_I wish that all three of us would live forever,_  Voldemort thought, and as he blew out the candles with a few huffs of breath, he thought of his and Bellatrix's Horcruxes and the way that Morganna had all three Hallows. Perhaps his wish would come true, after all.

_SMASH!_

Bellatrix shrieked as one of the dining room windows was blasted open, and she glared across the table at Morganna.

"Why did you do that?" she demanded, but Morganna looked confused.

"I didn't blow out that window," she insisted, and Bellatrix eyed Voldemort. He reached out with Legilimency and sensed twelve or fifteen minds outside Tarnsey House.

"There are rebels," he mumbled, rising to his feet and throwing down his napkin. He pulled out his yew wand and commanded Morganna,

"Stay hidden. Use your Invisibility Cloak."

"Yes, My Lord." She pulled it out from the Expanded purse around her waist and whirled it around her shoulders. Bellatrix asked Voldemort,

"Will you Summon the others?"

Voldemort was already ahead of her. He pulled back the left sleeve of his robe and pressing his wand to his Dark Mark. He whispered, " _Morsmordre,_ " and in his mind he Summoned all his greatest Death Eaters - Both Malfoys, Avery, Mulciber, Yaxley, and the rest.

"Come. Let's go. Morganna, stay safe in the house. Go hide up in your rooms," Voldemort commanded her.

"No! Hide in the gardens," Bellatrix corrected, and Voldemort nodded. He and Bellatrix went dashing out of the dining room, down the corridor and down one of the twin staircases in the main foyer. Bellatrix's boots clacked against the chequerboard marble floor, and Voldemort said to her,

"No matter what happens, Bella, I adore you."

"I shall love you more," she said back, and they pushed the doors open.

* * *

Avery took a Killing Curse, his body flailing backward and socking against the stone exterior of Tarnsey House. These rebels had absolutely no hesitation in using Unforgivables. Voldemort gulped as he cast two quick Killing Curses of his own, but then he watched in wonder as Bellatrix cast a Cruciatus Curse on a young Mudblood witch and held it, her scarlet web of light crackling and snapping around the enemy.

"Master! Master! Help!" Abraxas Malfoy was screaming to Voldemort's right. He crouched down beneath a berm to see that Abraxas had had both his arms blown off, and he was bleeding profusely.

"Bloody hell," Voldemort murmured. "Where's the Dittany? Mulciber? Get over here! Take Malfoy into the house and get him Dittany! Now, or he's going to die!"

"Die?" Abraxas sounded weak, and then he rolled onto his back, stared up at the sky, blank-eyed, and Voldemort sensed his mind go blank. He stared up at Mulciber and murmured,

"Nevermind. Too late."

" _Stupefy!"_

Mulciber was hit hard with a Stunning Spell from an enemy, and Voldemort stood up and aimed his wand in the direction from which the spell had come. But it was no use; the wizard who had cast the spell had Disapparated.

"Aghhhhhhhhhhh!"

Voldemort whirled at the sound of a tiny child screaming. Suddenly he could see Morganna, standing in the very centre of the battlefield, balling up her Invisibility Cloak and stuffing it into her Expanded purse. She aimed the Elder Wand around her, daring the enemies to kill a child. People backed away a little, and then suddenly Morganna, stomped her foot, sliced her wand through the air in a lateral line, and screamed bloody murder again.

There was a massive explosion of blue. The sound was so profound that it thudded and reverberated inside Voldemort's ears, and he watched in wonder as every rebel in sight collapsed in what appeared to be either death or very deep sleep. Bellatrix and Voldemort and the others rushed around, systematically executing the rebels that Morganna had immobilised. They Vanished the bodies one by one, and then there was silence as a soft rain began to fall over the field outside Tarnsey House.

"Three cheers for the Lady Morganna!" cried Lucius Malfoy, who had just lost his father but seemed to have other priorities. People cheered wildly, but Morganna just stood there, clutching her Elder Wand, and she walked slowly across the dampening field toward Voldemort, her boots moving softly on the grass.

"Have I made you proud, My Lord?" she asked. The rain was so cold now. She should have a cloak on, he thought, a heavier cloak to keep her warm. He cupped her jaw in his hand and stared into her sapphire eyes.

" _A silver-haired creature with sapphire eyes shall you gather reluctantly under your wing. And though you shall guide her, ever shall she guide you. Tiny fingers clutched round elder, silver hair hidden beneath cloak of false velvet, gifted obsidian hung round her neck, and she lives thus as long as your selfish heart cries._ "

He recited the prophecy to her, looking around the battlefield where Abraxas Malfoy's armless corpse lay, where Avery lay slumped against the wall, where the rebels had been immobilised, killed, and Vanished.

"You make me so very proud." Voldemort crouched down until he was eye to eye with Morganna, his hand tightening in the cold rain on her delicate little face. "Silver-haired creature, you make me so very, very proud. And you will continue to make me proud. And you will live on, and fight on with me, and someday you will be as powerful than I am."

"And will you fight me when that happens, My Lord?" asked Morganna seriously, but Voldemort smirked.

"No. I will be like the best of the Three Brothers. Someday, you and I will greet one another as old friends, and depart this world as equals. But today, Morganna, I am very, very proud of you. And there will be many more battles. Are you ready to fight?"

He raised his eyes to Bellatrix, whose beautiful black curls were wet from the rain, and who was staring with love in her eyes at Voldemort and Morganna in the silent field. Voldemort flicked his eyes to Morganna, and she nodded firmly.

"I'm ready to fight, My Lord."

"Another day," he said. "Today… I clean up this mess and you go inside with Aunt Bella for tea."

**THE END**

**Author's Note: To the small crowd who read through the third part of this series, thank you so much for doing so. I do hope you've enjoyed the Storm Series. I may squeeze in one more Bellamort story before Fantastic Beasts comes out, at which point I'll obviously be writing for FB.**


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